The One Left Behind
by Calico
Summary: Sequel to 'Broken'. What do you do when everything is taken from you? *Complete*
1. Prologue

Title: "The One Left Behind"

Author: Calico calico321@yahoo.com

Rating: PG-13

Summary:  This is a sequel to 'Broken' (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=661242), which must absolutely be read first. What do you do when you lose everything?  Warning: this will be depressing.  It'll also be funny and sweet and just on the far side of normal.

Prologue

Excerpt from:

**Sins of the Father: A Discourse on the Reality of Family Curses**

By: Timothy Byron Price

© 2050

_            […]While the history of kings can often be attributed to mere fable, we can easily turn to a modern, very prominent family as an example of the hereditary of family curses, those who seemed to have incurred the wrath of some vengeful deity, who will not be happy until the line has completely vanished._

_            The Wayne family dates back to colonial days, though their financial success seems to have been rooted around the Civil War.  Judges, businessmen, and even one almost-governor, the clan has predominantly lived in or around Gotham City since settling over three hundred years ago.  _

_            Outward appearances give the impression of familial bliss and harmony, but a deeper look shows so much more.  Other than a record fifteen reported crib deaths in the last ten generations, no member of the Wayne family has died of natural causes.  One strapping son by the name of Kenneth Josiah Wayne, spent six months in 1863 fighting with the Union Army during the war of sedition.  Thrice decorated for merit and bravery, Kenneth managed to survive many long, bloody battles, including Gettysburg.  While on his way home for a much-deserved furlough, his train derailed, killing everyone on board.  Enroute to claiming the body, his father and two brothers were killed by a band of highwaymen._

_            […]_

_            The most recent tragedy to befall the family was mid last century when Thomas Wayne, a well renowned doctor who had started a small medical supply company under the auspicious name of 'Wayne Enterprises', and his wife Martha, were murdered by a common mugger one evening after a cinema show.  Surviving the ordeal was eight-year-old Bruce, who, after spending several years abroad, took control of his father's legacy and turned the small company into a global conglomerate that has stayed on the cutting edge of technology for the past seven decades.  _

_            It had seemed that the sole-surviving member of the Wayne family was determined to let the curse die with him, as he spent as much time with as many different women as possible, giving no sign of settling for any one.  Then inexplicably and very quietly at the age of 60 he married a woman twenty-three years his junior, who has since born him two daughters.  _

_            As of this writing Bruce Wayne, now age 82, is still living in his ancestral home atop the cliffs of Gotham City, and though it appears he may well live out the entire life destined to him, this writer believes that it is not a question of _**if**_ the curse will strike again, only _**when**_._

2058

            "Miss Wayne?  Are you okay?  Can you continue?"

            A young woman sat in the chair opposite Detective Benjamin Hudson's desk, weeping softly.  A small bandage on her forehead and a larger one on her right arm were the only evidence of her recent ordeal.  Petite with light brown hair and ivory skin, she looked as fragile as a rose in the middle of a snow-covered field.

            Nodding slightly in answer to his question, she sniffed in an effort to compose herself.

            "Do you have any idea who would want to harm your family?" Ben asked gently for fear of sending her back into tears.

            Her heart-shaped, tear- and soot-streaked face turned up to him and those bright blue eyes, piercing and dramatic surrounded by the pale, creamy skin like a china doll, took his breath away.  They were stunning and Ben decided he could die a happy man if he were just looking into them as the Grim Reaper came.

            Ben gave himself a mental shake; what was he thinking, she had just been through hell and she was only seventeen.

            "I'm pretty sure I know who did it," she finally replied with a soft voice barely above a whisper.

            "And who would that be Miss Wayne?" he prodded gently.

            "Please, just call me Grace."  She dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief he'd given her after she first sat down.  "You've heard of the Kobras?" she asked.

            "Uh, yeah," Ben replied slightly confused.  "They're a gang of international terrorists who want the earth to revert back to its reptilian origins."  She nodded.  "What do they have to do with this?"

            She seemed to summon up her strength before answering, gripping the handkerchief unconsciously.  "They killed m…m…my family be…be…cause they found out our secret."

            "What secret is that?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

            "That…"  She took a deep breath.  "That my brother-in-law is…was Batman."

            "Excuse me?" he exclaimed with a raised voice.  He cleared his throat before continuing.  "I'm sorry, did you say Batman?"  Once again she nodded and Ben shuffled through his notes.  "This is Terrence McGinnis, who was married to your sister Isabella?"

            "Yes," she replied weakly.

            "I'm sorry Miss, uh, Grace.  What you're saying is a little farfetched.  Are you certain?"

            "Of course I am," she said slightly annoyed.  "Why would I lie?"

            "I'm not saying you're lying intentionally, maybe you're just a little confused.  Perhaps you misheard something, or someone was playing a little joke on you."

            She shook her head sadly.  "No mistake.  I practically grew up in the Batcave."

            "You…did…what?"

            "Well basically if I wanted to spend any time with my father I had to go down there."

            "Your father…?  Bruce Wayne?  Are you trying to tell me that he was involved somehow?"

            With a bitter smile she said, "Who do you think was the first Batman?"

            Ben sat back in his chair, dumbfounded.  Finally he found the strength to talk.  "Uh, listen can I get you something to drink?  Coffee?  Water?"

            "Water would be nice."  He rose from his chair and she called out to him, "You don't believe me do you?"

            "Yeah sure I do."  He smiled reassuringly.  "I won't be but a moment."  Ben left the room and went down the hall to the water cooler.  The job was just too much sometimes.  He'd always wanted to be a cop like his grandmother Renee, who had been a highly decorated detective and had worked with the Batman years ago.  While he never hoped to live up to her stellar reputation, Ben had done very well for himself.  Promoted to detective at just twenty-five was a major coup.  Yet having spent two years working on some of the most gruesome cases Gotham spat out, somehow it only made things worse.  It never seemed like they accomplished anything.  Recently he'd come to the conclusion that the city's caped crusader was the only one doing any good.  And now this woman - this girl - was trying to tell him that Batman was dead.

            Five hours ago Gotham's famed billionaire Bruce Wayne and his wife were celebrating their thirtieth wedding anniversary at a restaurant called As the Wind Blows along with their two daughters and son-in-law.  Upon getting ready to leave for home, their car exploded, killing all on board.  Grace, trailing behind because she had left her handbag on the table, was stepping onto the sidewalk as the fireball engulfed the vehicle, leaving her slightly singed, greatly shaken, and amazingly still alive. 

            Ben shook his head.  Bruce Wayne, a notorious playboy for most of his life, was the first Batman?  Maybe she had been hurt worse than originally thought.

            "Wake up Hudson!"

            Ben looked up to see Henry Peters walking towards him.  "Hi Henry."

            "So how you doing with the Wayne chick?"

            Ben scowled.  "She has a name, it's Grace."

            Henry raised his hands.  "Whoa!  Calm down already.  Did you get anything out of her?"

            "No, I'm afraid she's pretty shook up.  How are you doing?"

            "I've interviewed all the restaurant's staff, but no one saw anything.  Man who could do something like this?  A whole family for God's sake."

            Ben nodded.  It was going to be a long night.  "I'd better be getting back to her."  The two detectives waved to each other and walked on.

            Stepping back into his office he smiled and handed Grace a cup of water.  She thanked him demurely.  He sat back down and sifted through the notes on his desk.  "So where were we?" he asked.

            "You were trying to convince me you don't think I'm crazy."

            He laughed, but noticed she didn't mean it as a joke.  "Grace, I don't think you're crazy at all, but this allegation that you were in a family of superheroes is a bit unusual.  Next you'll be telling me your mother was Batgirl."

            She blinked at him for a second and then broke out into a bittersweet smile that just about melted his heart.  "She would freak if she heard you say that.  She hated the 'life'.  She only tolerated it for Dad and my sister."

            "Your sister?  Was she Batgirl?" he asked incredulously.

            "No." She rolled her eyes.  "But she did her share, although with college and the company she was really busy, until…"  Grace looked down at her lap and pulled at the fabric of her ruined dress.  "She took over the controls in the Cave as back-up to Terry after Daddy, you know, got older."

            "What about you?"

            "What do you mean?"

            "Were you a part of the 'life' as you put it?"

            She shrugged.  "Almost from the time I could walk I was training with them, just as form of family bonding.  I'm an expert a dozen forms of martial arts, a master at a variety of weapons, and I can swing on a line thirty feet like it was a walk in the park.  I could have dedicated my life to it if I wanted to, even though Mother would have had a coronary, but I didn't.  It just wasn't me."  She looked up at him and smiled.  "I'm an artist.  I draw, paint, do a little sculpture."

            "Really?" he said and leaned forward on the desk.  Beautiful and talented.  They locked eyes for a few moments until he shook himself out of the reverie.  She was really doing a number on him. 

            "I was going to go abroad to art school after I graduated high school next year, but now I guess I'll be sticking around.  I have to take care of little Bruce."

            "Huh?"  Ben looked down at his file.  "Oh, the infant son of Isabella Wayne-McGinnis and Terry McGinnis, Bruce Warren McGinnis?"

            "Yeah."

            There was an uncomfortable silence, then Ben said, "Grace, I really want to help you…"

            "But you can't believe me," she finished for him.  He smiled uncomfortably.  "Somebody's got to be Batman, Detective Hudson.  Do you have a better idea of who it is?"  Ben felt terrible doubting her, but he couldn't fathom Gotham's most public family hiding such a huge secret.  "Why don't you stop by some time," she said standing up.  "I'll give you a tour of the Batcave…before I close it up for good."  She reached across his desk to shake his hand.  "Thank you for all you've done."

            Helplessly Ben watched her walk out his door, his belief in angels firmly in place.


	2. Chapter 1 Reverse Psychology

_'Cause everything's so wrong  
And I don't belong  
Living in your  
Precious memories  
  
'Cause I need you  
And I miss you  
And now I wonder....  
  
If I could fall  
Into the sky  
Do you think time  
Would pass me by  
'Cause you know I'd walk  
A thousand miles  
If I could   
Just see you  
Tonight  
  
_A Thousand Miles, Vanessa Carlton

            After the cab dropped her off at the manor mere hours before dawn, Grace stumbled up the stairs and into her parents' bedroom, closing the door softly behind her.  Maria and the baby were both asleep for which she was grateful.  She just didn't have the energy to deal with them.

            Still in her torn and dirty dress, she glided over to her mother's vanity table and touched all the bottles one by one.  Avoiding her reflection in the mirror altogether, she picked up the framed photo of her family and felt a tear fall slowly down her cheek.  She took the photograph over to the bed and fell across it in a heap.  She was suffocating in her grief, it surrounded her and she couldn't shake it off.  If only she could get away, for just a little while…

2044

            "Mom!  She keeps running away from me!"  Isabella's voice ricocheted off the old manor walls as she chased after her energetic sister.  "Mother!"  She was coming to the conclusion that she preferred being an only child.

            Suddenly, with the instincts of predator, Mardi stepped into the hallway in front of the rampaging toddler and scooped her up into her arms.  "And just where are you off to little lady?"

            "Belly funny," the child giggled.  "Belly chase."

            "Um hmmm."  Mardi looked up to her other daughter, a month away from her eighteenth birthday and growing more beautiful each day.  "I thought I asked you to watch her," she calmly reprimanded the panting teenager.

            "Watch her?  I did.  I watched her run around like wild animal!  She's hopeless."

            "She's three.  Give it time.  Now why don't you try to get along better?" she asked starting to hand Grace over, but Isabella waved her away.

            "No way, can't.  I've got to get ready for my date."

            "Date?"  Mardi frowned.  "I thought Terry was on patrol?"

            "He is.  The date's not with him."  Her eyes shifted away.  "I'm going out with Jeremy."

            "Oh.  But I thought you and Terry…?"

            "We were," Isabella replied sharply.  "But now he's saying how it was a mistake and that he owes Dana a second chance.  It's all bullshit."

            "Language please," Mardi hissed.  "Well anyway, Jeremy's nice.  And Gracie likes him, don't you sweetheart?"

            "Jammy has paints.  Me likes to paint."

            "I, sweetheart, it's 'I like to paint.'"  Then she smiled.  "Aren't you my little artiste?"

            Isabella rolled her eyes.  "I've got to get ready."

            "Go see Daddy," Grace demanded.  "Play with bats.  Now!"

            "We don't play with bats honey, they're dirty and nasty."

            "Actually Mom they're not really…"

            "Please don't start the bats-are-misunderstood-creatures speech.  I just don't think I could take it again."

            "Yeah whatever.  I've got to get going."

            "Bye bye Belly," Grace waved as her sister walked away.  "Go see Daddy?" she asked her mother.

            "Sure honey."

            "Daddy!" the little voice echoed from above.  He looked up and watched her carefully negotiate one step at a time, Mardi following close behind like a mother hen, ready to reach out and grab her should she start heading in the wrong direction.  Something inside of him warmed up at the sight and he briefly wondered why he waited so long to have a family.  "Puppy!" Grace cried out as she reached the cave floor and Ace happily padded over to her.  He licked her face and she laughed out loud patting him on either side of his muzzle.  The dog had seemingly adopted his young mistress and could be counted on to make sure she stayed out of trouble while visiting the cave.

            "Working hard?" Mardi asked as she stepped over to Bruce.  "You know you've been down her for over 18 hours."

            "I know," he replied as he watched the little girl climbing on the now reclining Ace.  "I've got more work to do," he told her simply.

            "Fine," Mardi sighed.  Accepting and understanding were two completely different animals, he mused.  She'd somehow accepted the role Batman had to play in their lives, but she'd never wholly understand the necessity.  And so there would be constant power struggles as to which 'job' took precedence.  

            Grace waddled over and put her hands in the air.  "Pick up Daddy.  Lap time."

            "No, honey," Mardi tried to stop her.  "He's busy."

            "She's fine," he corrected and bent down, hauling her onto his lap.  She squirmed until she got comfortable and then immediately reached forward to the computer console.  "No," he said, grabbing her hands.  "That's not for little girls."

            "Why?"

            "Because you don't know how to use it," he said with the utmost logic, which never works on a three-year-old.

            "Me play," she insisted and reached forward again.

            "No," he said patiently and pulled her back again.

            "Play!"

            "No."

            "Play!  Nownownownownownownow!" she chanted.

            "No."

            "Now!"  Bruce remained silent this time and she turned to look at him.  Patting his face with her tiny hand she solemnly asked, "Daddy?"

            "What?"

            "Play now!"

            He sighed and caught Mardi attempting not to laugh.  Keeping her face neutral she said, "I'll just take her back upstairs."

            "You can leave her here."

            She was taken aback and stood with her lips parted for a moment.  "She's overdue for her nap so she'll probably just fall asleep.  Call me if you need anything."  She started to leave but stopped.  "Oh and just in case you hadn't heard, Isabella has a date with that Jeremy boy tonight."

            Bruce frowned.  "I thought she and Terry had…?"

            "Yes, but apparently he got cold feet.  Maybe you should talk to him."

            "Why?"

            "Well she is your daughter."

            "All the more reason to stay out of it."

            "You're such a romantic Bruce Wayne," she said with a mockingly sweet voice.  Then she was gone.

            "I hope you're not going to be as much trouble as your sister when you grow up," he said to the child in his lap who only giggled in return.  He leaned forward and hailed the Batmobile's communicator.

            "Hey what's up?" Terry chirped into the microphone.

            "How are you doing?" Bruce asked.

            "No problems yet.  You really think they're going to try for the warehouse tonight?"

            "That's what the evidence points to."  He paused.  "I hear things between you and Isabella have cooled."

            "Oh, uh…" Terry stuttered. 

            Bruce smiled.  Always catch them by surprise.  "What happened?"

            "Well thing's were just moving too fast.  And besides I got a call from Dana.  She wanted to give it another chance.  I guess I owe her that much.  What do you care anyway?  I figured you'd be happier with me out of the picture."

            "I don't care about your love life McGinnis," he growled.  "But when you start treating my daughter like a disposable commodity I do tend to pay attention."

            "Hey that's not fair!  I like her - a lot - but I just got to thinking that maybe I only liked her because she knows everything.  It would just make things so much easier not to have to cover my tracks all the time."

            "Could be.  I guess you'd better know for sure before you try to take things further again."  He smiled to himself.  "Not that it may matter anymore.  She's going out tonight with another boy."

            Terry was immediately on alert.  "She is?  With who?  Not that twip painter?"

            "Jeremy treats her very well."

            "He's a loser.  No personality.  She deserves so much better."  He paused for several long seconds.  "I'm sounding jealous aren't I?"

            "I don't know, are you?"

            "I've got to go.  Batman out."

            Bruce bent his head down to Grace.  "First thing you've got to learn is that reverse psychology works every time."

            She looked up at him with her big blue eyes.  "Reberse sychogy?"

            He pursed his lips.  "You also have to work on your diction.  When she was your age, Isabella was speaking Latin."

            Her only answer was, "Go potty now."


	3. Chapter 2 Nothing's Fair

_And it hurts to want everything and nothing at the same time._

Goodbye to You, Michelle Branch

2058

            "Miss Grace?  Miss Grace wake up," the insistent voice of Maria hauled her out of her dream.  She was still laying in the middle of her parents' large bed in a fetal position.  Her left arm was asleep and she felt a sharp pain in her neck from the awkward position.  The photograph was still gripped against her chest.

            "Whatsamatter?" she mumbled up at the woman, draping her hand over her face to block out the glare of the overhead light.

            "Phone for you Miss Grace.  It's Mr. Terry's mama."

            Grace groaned as she sat up.  She hadn't bothered to call Mary.  "What time is it?"

            "Seven."  The woman's lower lip quavered, her eyes were wide with concern.  "I been hearing the news.  Can't be true, can it?" she asked timidly.

            "I'm sorry, but it is.  They're gone, all of them.  Dead."  She lowered her face to avoid any looks of pity and said, "I'll take the phone in here Maria.  Thank you."  She didn't raise her head until she heard the door close behind the nanny, then she reached over and picked up the extension on her mother's side of the bed.  "Hello?"

            "Grace my God!  What the hell happened?  I just got of the phone with the police!"

            "I'm so sorry Mary, I was exhausted when I got home last night and I forgot to call you."

            "Oh I'm not mad honey, just concerned, and, well, shocked.  Are you doing okay?"

            "Just a little crisp around the edges," she joked half-heartedly.

            "Listen, I'm coming over.  I'll be there in half an hour."

            "Fine, see you then."

            She dropped the phone back into the cradle and pushed herself off the bed.  In the master bathroom she carefully pealed off the bandages from her head and arm.  The skin was a harsh red, slightly blistered, but the cream the medic had applied last night was already working to heal the damage.  She then stripped off the remains of her dress, balled it in her fists, and threw it into the wastebasket before stepping into the shower.  She used her mother's shampoo and soap, closing her eyes as the steam brought their distinctive smells into her nostrils.  Soon the water falling down her face mixed with her tears and she was sobbing uncontrollably against the tiled shower wall.

            She pounded the wall with her fist, wailing in agony.  "Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!  I can't do this, I CAN'T!  It's all my fault!  Momma…Daddy…Bella…Oh God, I miss you so much.  Why did I have to be left behind, why, oh why why why…?  I'm so sorry."  Her inarticulate cries of pain echoed throughout the large room.

            Eventually she regained control and managed to finish showering, going through the motions without effort or feeling.  From her mother's closet she chose a simple beige dress to wear.  Unlike Isabella who'd inherited their father's large stature, Grace shared Mardi's petite build and had often borrowed her clothes.  Once dressed, she brushed her hair back without bothering to dry it and went downstairs.  "Maria?" she called out.

            "In here Miss Grace."

            She found the nanny tending to baby Bruce in the sunroom.  She walked over and knelt down in front of him.  "Hey, how ya doing big guy?"

            "Mommy?" he asked hopefully, looking behind her.

            "I'm sorry," she said sadly and picked up one of his stuffed toys.  The doorbell chimed then and Maria got up to answer the call.  A few minutes later Mary McGinnis walked into the room, looking as if she too had enjoyed a good cry recently.  Grace rose to her feet.

            "Oh Grace I'm so sorry," Mary said and gathered her into a hug.  Then she pushed her away, gripping her shoulders.  "Your parents were wonderful people, especially your father.  He was one of a kind."  Grace could only nod her head.  Mary smiled down at the little boy.  "Hi baby boy," she said reaching down to pick him up.  "How would you like to come home with Grandma?"

            "What?" Grace said quickly.

            "Well honey, he can't stay here."

            "Yes he can.  I'll take care of him.  I've just lost my entire family, you can't take him away from me too," she said, her voice desperate with emotion.  "He's all I have left!"

            Gently Mary said, "I was thinking you would both come with me."

            "No!  This is my home, our home.  You can't do this to me, I won't let you.  You have another son and his family.  I don't have anyone else but him now!"  Tears were falling and she was feeling sick to her stomach.  She knew she was throwing a temper tantrum but she couldn't stop herself.

            "Grace that's not fair."  Mary paused to compose herself.  "I know you're upset, and I don't want to argue with you.  I'll leave him here for now.  You have Maria to help you out.  But you're still a child, you can't expect to raise a baby yourself."

            "I'm not a child.  I'll be eighteen in six months."

            "Nonetheless, you'll soon discover that it's too much of a burden for you to take on, especially after everything that has happened."  She gave the baby a kiss and set him back down onto his playmat.  "Now, I hate to bring it up, but have you started making funeral arrangements yet?"

            "Oh, I hadn't even thought of that."

            "That's alright.  I'll take care of everything."

            "Well at least let me give you the name and number of my dad's accountant."

            "That's not necessary."

            "Yes it is," Grace said harshly and went into the study.  A few minutes later she came back and handed Mary a slip of paper.  "Here you go.  If they give you any problems, just have them call me or something."

            "Take care of yourself Grace.  I talk to you again soon."  Then she was gone and Grace heaved a sigh of relief.

            "Maria, I'm going back to bed. I'll be in my parents' room."  Running on only a few hours' sleep, she was so tired, so incredibly tired.

            Upstairs, she stripped off her mother's dress and laid it carefully across the foot of the bed, and then slipped naked between the cool sheets, laying her head on the soft pillow that still held the scent of Mardi's perfume.  Her chest constricted and she retched several sobbing breaths before the relief of sleep finally took her away again.


	4. Chapter 3 Objective Observation

2052

            Eleven-year-old Grace muttered to herself as she trudged along the estate's walking path towards her favorite drawing spot, sketchbook firmly tucked under one arm.  She was avoiding her mother on this crisp autumn Saturday morning, who would no doubt take great pleasure in verbally eviscerating her simply because she had failed the big math exam this week.  Mardi was constantly harping about her grades, as if they were actually important.

            She sighed as she came upon the clearing and saw two figures standing next to her rock, the one that had the best view of the ocean beyond.  Just to make her day that much worse her sister had to go trespassing on her private spot.

            A polite young lady would have turned right around to avoid the scene entirely, but Grace would be the first to say she was neither polite nor a lady.  She slipped behind a big oak tree and peeked around.  In the clearing Isabella and Terry were in the midst of a very animated conversation.

            "You're going to have to accept it Terry!" Isabella said forcefully.  "Dad's just not up to the rigors of the job anymore.  I'm going to have to be your back up now."

            "I don't need you," he said through gritted teeth.  "I can do it by myself."

            Isabella stepped back as if slapped.  "Can't we get past this?  What's done is done."  Terry turned his head from her.  "You got married!" she cried.  "What was I supposed to do, just sit around and pine for you?  You obviously don't want anything to do with me, why are you so upset I accepted his proposal?"

            His response was so quiet it was almost lost among the trees, but Grace was certain he said, "She left me.  We're getting a divorce."  He kicked at some leaves with his toe.  "She couldn't accept the double life.  I thought it would be easier if she knew, but it didn't help."  He stuck out his hand.  "I'm sorry about what I said earlier.  We can still work together."

            Grace gasped and quickly covered her mouth with her arm.

            Isabella looked shocked, but she still tentatively took his hand.  But instead of shaking it, Terry pulled her forward and gripped the back of her head with his free hand, drawing her into a passionate kiss.  Then abruptly he let go.  "See you around," he said as if nothing had happened and shoved his hands in his pockets, turning to walk out of the other side of the clearing, presumably heading towards one of the 'Cave's many entrances. 

            Knowing it wouldn't be healthy to be caught by her older sister, Grace turned and sprinted down the path.  She ran as fast as she could, with the speed and stealth that seemed to be a part of her genetic makeup, and was back at the house in no time.  Flinging open the kitchen door and rushing in blindly, she came to a jarringly sudden stop as she smacked into her father.

            "Oops," she said, backing up with wide eyes.

            "What's the hurry?" he asked.

            "Um, I forgot something."

            "What?"

            "Uh, my, um, my – oh yeah! – I forgot my pencils," she replied.

            "Then what are those sticking out of your book?" he asked, pointing.

            Grace followed his finger to the dozen colored tips hanging out of their holder, and then back up to Bruce, who'd always been able to spot a lie at twenty paces.  She was about to launch into a long explanation about different colors needed to capture the proper light when the door opened and Isabella dragged through as if with leaden feet, her face red and wet with tears.

            "What's the matter?" Bruce called to her.

            "Nothing.  Everything!"  She stormed through the swinging door, sobbing hysterically.

            Bruce's gaze dropped onto his younger daughter. "What's going on?"

            She shrugged.  "Terry.  They were talking and then he kissed her and then he just left."

            "So you were listening in on a private conversation?"

            "I was investigating," she insisted.

            "When there is a crime involved we investigate, otherwise it's eavesdropping and it's rude."

            "They were in my spot!"

            He inclined his head towards her, with narrowed eyes.  "It's _all_ mine."

            "Whatever," she sighed, and then her face brightened up.  "Hey, were you going to have lunch?"

            "Yes."

            "What're you making?"

            "How does grilled cheese sound?"

            "Great!  I'll get the cheese."

            Soon they were standing side by side, Grace atop one of the kitchen chairs holding a spatula in close observation of the browning sandwiches.  When they had been grilled to perfection, father and daughter sat down to enjoy the warm, gooey sandwiches.

            "So how are things at school?" Bruce asked idly.

            "Mmmm, not bad," Grace replied, licking a bit of cheese off her finger.

            "What about math?"

            Grace's eyes widened as she looked up at him.  She knew and things must be pretty serious if Mom had called in the big gun.  "Math's stupid."

            "It's important."

            "Not to me.  I'm going to be a world-famous painter.  They don't need math, or any of those other stupid subjects."

            "But a Wayne does, and the last time I checked you were still a part of this family."

            "Not by choice," she mumbled into her hand.

            "Excuse me?"

            "Nothing," she replied more clearly.  "Look, I'm good at other school stuff."

            "Like what?"

            "Art and Phys Ed," she said as if it should be completely obvious.

            "Those are not the most difficult subjects."

            "Yeah?  Tell that to the fat kid who can't even run a mile or the jock who can't even draw a simple tree."  She smiled at him in challenge.

            "I'm just saying you need to try harder.  We don't expect you to be perfect…"

            "Like Isabella?" she cut in sourly.

            "You are not held up in comparison to your sister."

            "Like hell I'm not."

            "Grace."  The word was not yelled, but did hold a powerful warning.  She blushed and dropped her head.  There were some lines even she did not dare cross.  

            "I'm sorry, but it's just like you and she have this secret little club."

            "You're very close to your mother," he reminded her.

            "That's only because we both almost died when I was born."  She sighed.  "You guys, are just, well, you're Bat people."  She lifted one shoulder in resignation.  How could she explain the wide difference to the original Bat, the one who'd been doing it so long there just wasn't anything else left of him.  Her mother knew the difference, though she kept her feelings and opinions to herself more often than not, but Grace could see the look in Mardi's eyes every dinner they missed because of an important mission.  Isabella had eagerly followed in their father's footsteps.  And recently she was starting to work at the offices of Wayne Enterprises, which had been run by a board of directors since the Powers family had abandoned it, and was predicted to be ready to take over by her thirtieth birthday.  She was the beautiful, intelligent pride and joy of the family, whereas Grace seemed to be a disappointing tagalong, a tomboy with close-cropped, rarely brushed hair, who liked to do nothing more than draw.  

            Not that she wasn't allowed to be a part of the 'life'; in another couple of years after she'd turned fourteen, she'd be permitted to put on a suit and go out.  That was the rule.  She still wasn't sure how she felt about it, whether it would make things better, or worse.

            While she loved her father very much, she always felt there was a part of him held back, a part that Isabella got to know, but she didn't.  After one of the few verbal confrontations she'd heard between her parents, she'd asked her mother if she still loved him.  Mardi had smiled at her for a moment and then replied, "Oh I love Bruce as much as the day I married him.  Batman and I have some issues however."  And that was when she knew.  She may have trained and learned the ways of the Bat, but she would never be a true part of that world, would never feel it in her soul like they did.

            He was staring at her from across the table, waiting for her to elaborate on her statement.  "It's nothing.  Never mind," she muttered.

            "Grace, I don't love you any less than your sister."

            "I know," she said softly, pushing congealed cheese around on her plate.

            They sat in silence for a while, until the kitchen door pushed in and Mardi strode in, a pinched look on her face.  "What on earth is wrong with Isabella?  She's locked herself in her room, bawling pathetically, and won't talk to me."

            Bruce looked at Grace who in turn looked up at her mother.  "What else?  She and Terry had it out.  He's getting a divorce."

            "What?" Mardi asked.  "How do you know that?"

            "She probably found out when she eavesdropped on they're conversation today," Bruce remarked.

            "Grace Elizabeth Wayne!  You know better than that!"  Grace rolled her eyes.  "Well I think the perfect punishment for you would be to spend the rest of the weekend in your room studying math."

            "What?!"

            "I spoke with your teacher.  She's giving you a make-up exam on Monday, and this time I suggest you pass."

            Grace looked to Bruce for some support, but saw no sympathy for her plight. "Fine."  She pushed out of her chair and slipped her sketchbook off the table.

            Were all parents this annoying or just hers, she thought bitterly as she exited the kitchen.  Grace had long held the belief that she was switched at birth.  Otherwise it would mean she was as crazy as the rest of them.

            From the kitchen she plodded up the grand staircase towards her doom.  What a waste of a glorious weekend, and she only had one person to blame.  On the second floor she paused in front of Isabella's room.  Just as Mardi had described, a sniffling wail could be heard from behind the closed door.  She walked over and tried the knob, which was locked as also reported.  A small, unchildlike smile appeared on her young face as she started to unbend the end of the metal spiral that kept the pages of her sketchbook together.   Mardi, unfortunately, had never learned the fine art of lock picking.

            In less than thirty seconds, she'd gained entrance into her sister's private domain, an offense punishable by death, but she didn't care; she was too angry.  With her face mashed against a pillow, Isabella didn't see her sister come in, and without her HALO device, didn't hear anything.  Grace walked to the edge of the bed and flung her body onto it, causing the mattress to ripple in response.

            Isabella immediately lifted her head at the commotion.  Even with her hair a mess and her cheeks blotched from crying, Grace was once again reminded that her sister was voted most beautiful woman in Gotham three years running, which only made her angrier.

            "What are you doing in here, squirt?" Isabella said quietly.  "I'd like some privacy if you don't mind."

            "You got me in trouble!" Grace accused.

            "How did I do that?" Isabella inquired mildly.

            "Because when Mom asked me what was wrong with you I told her!"

            "What do you mean?"

            "That you and Terry had a fight."

            "How did you…You were spying on me, you little brat!" she exclaimed.

            Grace shrugged.  "I call it objective observation," she replied matter-of-factly.

            "I oughta…" Isabella reached for her, but Grace just batted her hand away.

            "I really don't see why you're acting like such a crybaby."  Isabella stared at her younger sister as if she had grown a second head.  "I mean he's free now.  You obviously are both still interested, so go for it so the rest of us can live in peace!"

            "I'm engaged to another man Grace," Isabella said emphatically.

            "You're not still going to marry Jeremy are you?"

            "I already said yes."

            "But you don't love him."

            "I do," Isabella insisted.

            "You never act around him like you do around Terry."

            "What's that supposed to mean?"

            "With Jeremy you're nice and polite and smile all the time.  With Terry you're bossy and belligerent."

            "Belligerent?" Isabella asked with a raised eyebrow.

            "It was a vocabulary word.  I remembered it because it describes you to a T!"

            "Stop acting like a twip.  You don't know what you're talking about."

            "Then you'll die alone and unhappy!"  Grace leapt off the bed, barely dodging the pillow that was thrown at her.  At the door she turned back to the bed.  "Not that I care or anything.  Now excuse me while I go study!"


	5. Chapter 4 Why Funerals and Sunshine Don...

A/N:  I just wanted to respond to a reviewer about the flow of the story, and you are absolutely right!  It was not written to be broken up, but as one long story.  However I was impatient to get it up even though parts in the middle hadn't quite been completed, so you're getting bits and pieces as they come.  The rest should go up much faster and hopefully the breaks won't be as jarring.  Anyway thanks so much to everyone who's reading.  Your kind comments keep me going!

2058

            "Hey!  Wake up _amigo_!" Det. Henry Peters called out as he entered Ben's office.  "You still mooning over that girl?"

            "No," Ben replied darkly.

            "Liar."  Ben looked up at his partner questioningly.  "You didn't even ask me who I was talking about."

            "I'm working on the case, Henry, just like you."

            "I'm not a fool Hudson.  I know you went to the funeral this morning."

            "Just checking out to see if anyone suspicious showed up."  Ben spread his hands out in a gesture to show the point was obvious.

            "Alone?  And besides this little reconnaissance, what have you done?  Investigate the Kobras?  What's that all about?"

            "I'm not at liberty to say.  It's a hunch."

            "I've never known you to act like this - going out on your own, not sharing info, and completely obsessed with the Wayne chick - and I'm not the only one to notice.  The captain's been asking questions.  You're getting in over your head.  What's so special about this girl besides a nice ass and a nicer bank account?"

            "Shut up," Ben gritted through clenched teeth.

            "See," Henry said pointing a finger at Ben.  "You're taking this way too personal."

            "She's…she's…special.  You should have seen her today.  All alone.  So helpless.  She needs me."  Then he looked up, amazed he'd actually said the words.

            "That's bad news," Henry said quietly, casting his eyes to the floor.  "We haven't exactly ruled her out as a suspect."

            "What?!"  Ben slapped his desk enraged.  "She couldn't have possibly done anything like that!"

            Henry, his partner and mentor, looked him straight in the eyes.  "First rule of detection – follow the money."

            "That's ridiculous," Ben spat.

            "I'm not saying I believe it, I'm just saying you may be blinded as far as she's concerned.  Lots of rumors are floating around about your girl.  A lot of people are sayin' she ain't even Wayne's kid."

            "Why would anyone say something like that?"

            Henry shrugged.  "He was well into his seventies when she was born.  He may have been the town stud back in the day, but now…"

            Ben held up his hand.  "It's not impossible.  Besides just look at this."  He turned his computer monitor toward the other man.  It showed a picture of Bruce Wayne giving a speech some fifty years earlier.  "She's got his eyes, his smile, his…"

            "Dude, what are you doing?"

            "I was just doing some background research."

            "That's not what I meant.  This infatuation is going to get you fired.  Or worse."

            Ben looked at his friend thoughtfully for a moment and then stood and pulled on his coat.  "It's not an infatuation." 

            He started for the door.  "Where are you going?"

            "Up to Wayne manor.  I have some questions."

            "This is career suicide man, don't do it."

            Ben whirled on his partner.  "What career?  What do we do that's so important?  When was the last big bust we did, huh?"

            Henry frowned at him.  "Last week we took down that crime boss, Desautel."

            "No, Batman did that.  He left Desautel and his boys hogtied amidst a pile of damning evidence.  All we had to do was cart him off.  Without Batman…without Batman this city would fall apart."

            "What does this have to do with the Wayne case?"

            "I don't know, nothing.  I'll see you around."

            Grace's head pounded as the last of the mourners filed away from the gravesite.  It was unseasonably hot in Gotham and she had sweltered all morning during the funeral inside a black wool dress.  She'd been surprised to find it in her mother's closet, having never known Mardi to wear anything black, but it fit, and was certainly appropriate to the occasion.

            So many wanted to pay their respects, but Grace still found herself alone in the sea of people, watching Mary surrounded by her second son Matt and his family, a beautiful red-headed wife and three red-headed children all under the age of five.  She avoided all the sympathetic condolences that she could, until finally she was allowed to be alone with her family.  The fresh graves and their pristine markers sat atop the hill not far from her grandparents and the brother who had died even before Isabella was born.

            Grace stood there for so long as the sun beat down on her, sweat dripping along her back like her whole body was crying.  "I'm sorry," she whispered.  "I know I should do something, I know I should avenge you, but I…I just can't.  I've failed you in so many ways."

            Her tears watered the grass while high in the brilliant blue sky above birds chirped gaily, unconcerned that this was the worst day of her entire life, and about to get much worse.

            Her moment of solitude was broken when a shadow moved across her.  "Hello Grace," the silky female voice said from behind.  It was a voice she'd know anywhere, and one she would do anything to never have to hear again.

            She didn't even look back.  "What are you doing here?" she asked coldly.

            "I came to pay my respects."

            She made a sound that was half laugh half choke.  "What respect?  You hate us remember?"

            A sigh came from behind.  "It figures you'd remember that.  I know it won't make you feel any better, but I was distraught over my mother's death and I blamed him for it, and by extension I blamed all of you as well."

            "You're right," Grace said.  "It doesn't make me feel any better."  This time she did turn around and even preparing for the shock didn't stop the grip of pain.  The resemblance was still uncanny.  She looked almost the same of course, except some graying in the hair and a face that looked a little more haggard, but still far younger looking than her forty-some years.  "Do you have any idea what your appearance did to _my_ mother?"

            The woman nodded unenthusiastically and glanced at the row of headstones.  "So is anyone else going to take up the mantle?" she asked.

            "No."

            "Really?  I figured the old man would have successors picked out and ready to go."

            "He did and they're dead too," Grace said flatly.

            The woman looked at her with what could almost be called sympathy.  "Do you have any idea who did it?"

            "Yes.  I've told the police. Everything.  It's all over now as far as I'm concerned."

            "That's a little surprising to hear, from Batman's kid and all."

            "I'm also my mother's kid.  And I have a life to live."

            There was more uncomfortable silence, then the woman said, "Listen I'm not really good at this family stuff, but I want you to call me if you need anything."

            "Never," Grace said with venom.  "We are NOT family.  A few shared chromosomes do NOT make us family."

            There was that small smile again, the one that sent chills up her back.  "Yeah, my thoughts exactly, but at least I tried, right?"

            "I want you to leave and don't ever come near me, or my nephew, again.  Leave Gotham and don't come back."

            "And how are you going to stop me?"

            "I'm sure you're wanted by the police somewhere for something," she threatened.

            The woman nodded lazily.  "Yeah, I'm sure I am.  Well then.  Take care."

            As she started to walk away, Grace called out, "Wait!"  She turned back with a curious expression.  "Knowing my dad he probably left you something.  You know, in his will.  How can I get it to you?"

            She looked up at the sky for a moment then looked back at Grace.  "Just give it to charity.  Start up a fund for stray cats.  Okay?"

            "Fine."


	6. Chapter 5 The Stranger

2051

            The doorbell chimed.  Grace looked up from her homework.  It was quarter past four in the afternoon.  Isabella and Dad would already be downstairs training, which is where she would be if reducing fractions wasn't so hard to master.  Her mother was out back tending to the garden all women were supposed to keep when they reached a certain age, so Grace figured it was up to her to answer the door.

            She pushed herself away from the desk as the chime sounded again and again in rapid fire.  "Hold your horses," she muttered in annoyance as she grasped the knob.  The door swung open and she looked upon the visitor standing there with disinterest.  About forty with short, jet black hair and green eyes, much like Bella, she thought absently, only where her sister always seemed on the verge of smiling, this woman seemed to wear a perpetual frown.  Scowl lines had already imbedded themselves in her handsome face.

            The woman eyed Grace like she was a bug that had crawled out of her salad.  "Well?" she asked in a voice dripping with disdain and impatience.

            It took her a moment, but Grace remembered her manners.  "What can I do for you?" she asked, her inflection implying service was the furthest thing from her mind.

            "You're one of them aren't you?" the woman spat, but before Grace could ask her to elaborate she said, "I'm here to see the old man."

            Grace's face started to heat with rage.  "I think you'd better leave," she commanded from the depth of her ten-year-old soul.

            "No, I think you'd better get out of my way and let me in," the other countered.

            "Who is it Gracie?" Mardi called as she walked towards them, wiping her hands with a towel.

            "I don't know.  She refuses to give me her name."

            "You didn't ask," the woman snapped.

            "Well, I'm asking then," Mardi said, placing a hand on Grace's shoulder and squeezing ever so gently.

            The woman hesitated, looking rather unhappy that her way was being blocked.  Instead of answering she remarked, "You're his wife."  Mardi nodded even though it hadn't been a question so much as an accusation, and the woman pressed her lips together as she looked back and forth between them.  "My name is Helena Kyle."

            "And what business do you have with my husband?"

            "Just tell him I'm here," she barked.

            Grace knew her mother didn't usually back down from a fight, which is why it surprised her that Mardi pulled on her shoulder so that they moved out of the way and motioned for the woman to enter.  "Please come in.  Can I get you anything?"

            "Just Wayne.  I don't need your hospitality," she replied curtly and turned away to marvel at the art and architecture of the old house.  At least Grace hoped she was marveling at it because to her it looked a lot more possessive.

            "Gracie honey," Mardi spoke softly.  "Can you stay here and keep our guest company while I go get your father?"

            She heard the woman snort in derision, but ignored it.  "Sure Mom."  When Mardi had disappeared Grace studied the woman more closely.  She was dressed all in black, which only served to accentuate the paleness of her skin like a vampire or some other malevolent creature of the night.  Her fingernails, which she clicked together impatiently, were extremely long and pointed and Grace had the disturbing idea that used correctly they could be lethal.  "Why do you hate us?" she heard herself blurting out loud with no recollection of the thought forming in her head.

            The woman who had announced herself as Helena Kyle slowly turned back to her with a sharp gaze and for the first time actually smiled, a small evil smile that chilled Grace's young heart.  "Why shouldn't I hate you?  You've gotten to enjoy everything that I was denied."

            Grace blinked back tears of confusion at the bold and enigmatic declaration.  She wasn't sure how to even respond and luckily she didn't have to.  Helena's eyes shifted to look behind her and Grace turned to see Bruce standing there wearing about the strangest expression she'd ever seen on him.  He walked over to them, never taking his eyes off the stranger.  Grace wanted to say something to him, be reassured by his presence, but she didn't know what to say and was pretty sure he wouldn't hear her anyway.

            "Who are you?" he asked.

            She regarded him with a sneer.  "Well for the World's Greatest Detective you're pretty clueless.  You know who my mother was.  Connect the dots."

            His eyes closed for a moment and his shoulders sagged in a way they only did after he'd spent days down in the cave and was completely exhausted.  "How did you find me?"

            "I saw a picture of your other daughter, the pretty one.  Actually someone else saw it and commented we could be sisters.  I worked backwards from there."

            "She never told me," he said sadly.  "She left town, disappeared.  I couldn't find her."

            "That's because she didn't want to be found," Helena replied coldly.

            There was a small cough and they turned to see Mardi and Isabella watching too.

            "Someone want to fill me in on what's going on here?" Mardi asked.

            "Well don't keep them in suspense," Helena urged.

            He looked at the three of them – his wife and children – and said, "Helena is my daughter.  With Selina Kyle."

            "Catwoman?!" Isabella burst out.

            "Get out!" Grace exclaimed in surprised disbelief.

            Expressionlessly, Mardi turned and calmly walked up the stairs.  Isabella didn't hesitate for more than a second before following.  Grace stayed, more curious to find out the gory details.  Unfortunately her father had other ideas.  "Go check on your mother," he told her pointedly, unwilling to listen to any arguments.

            Upstairs she found them sitting side by side on the bed, Bella's arm around Mardi's shoulder as she wept softly.  "It's okay Mom," she soothed, looking at Grace expectantly.

            She went over and sat on her mother's other side.  "Well this kind of sucks," she announced.

            The weeping ceased momentarily as Mardi looked at her in reproach, but instead of saying anything she wrung her hands together.  "How can he do this to me again?  I just don't understand it, I asked him who she was and he said a thief, just a thief.  Ha!  I guess she was pretty damn good, I mean she must have stolen something pretty important, for THAT to happen!"  She sobbed a little bit more as Grace gave a small bark of laughter only to be swatted on the back of her head by her sister.

            "Maybe there's a mistake.  How could he be so sure after just meeting her?  They'll have to take tests, we need to make sure this isn't some scam," Isabella suggested, trying to be of some comfort.

            "She could be lying," Mardi agreed through her tears.  "Doesn't she look like the type of person who would lie?"

            "Are you two kidding yourselves?" Grace declared incredulously.  "She looks just like Isabella twenty years older."  Her sister scowled at her over Mardi's bowed head, Grace countered with a silent raspberry.  "Besides, I'm sure Dad knows what he's talking about.  We should trust him."

            "Senile old coot," Mardi muttered.  "Wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him."  She stood up suddenly.  "I need a drink."

            Isabella got up and touched her arm gently.  "How about some food instead?  It's close to suppertime, I think we could all use something to eat."

            "I know I could," Grace offered.

            Bella glowered back at her sister.  "You are a bottomless pit, you could eat your way to China."  Grace silently informed her sister that she was still number one, who in turn used their special sign language to reply that Grace would be dead by the end of the night.

            "That's enough you two," Mardi chided mildly, even though the entire exchanged had occurred behind her back.  "Let's go down to the kitchen and see what we can scrounge up."

            "Can I cook?" Grace asked excitedly as she slid off the bed.

            "I don't know, after the fire last month…"

            "C'mon Mom, you know that wasn't my fault," she wheedled.

            As they entered the kitchen they spotted Bruce sitting at the table, alone, holding a steaming cup of tea.  He looked up as they entered, focusing on Mardi who stopped short and gave an audible gulp.  "Where is she?" she asked moving closer to him.  The girls stood side by side just inside the door.

            "Gone."

            "Will she be back?"

            "Probably not."

            "Did she want money?"

            "Yes."

            "Ha!  Blackmail, right?"

            "No."

            "No?"  He shook his head and took a sip of tea.  Mardi looked a little confused and slid into the chair next to him.  "So are you going to tell me what's going on?"

            "Her mother died last year after a long illness.  The medical bills are astronomical, among other things."

            "Oh?  Am I supposed to feel sorry for her now?  You?  Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?"  He sighed.  "It's just like Talia all over again!  But that's not the point is it?  You lied to me Bruce.  A bold-faced, out and out lie!  I asked you about her and you said nothing.  Nothing!"

            "There was nothing to say.  It happened a long time ago.  I didn't plan it and I never expected it to come up again."

            "Well it did!  It came right up onto our doorstep and insulted us!  And she didn't even know who you were?  You didn't even bother to tell the woman your name.  You just kept your mask on during the whole sordid thing?  Is that what passed for a romantic evening in Gotham back then?"

            He flinched imperceptibly.  "It wasn't like that.  I loved her."

            "Didn't trust her though did you?" she pointed a finger at him.  "Trust is a pretty big part of love Bruce…Oh wait, who am I talking to, trust isn't even your vocabulary!"

            "Enough!" he bellowed and slapped a hand against the table hard enough to spill the tea.  Grace gripped her sister's hand desperately unused to such outbursts from him.  "I can't deal with your histrionics right now."

            She leapt from the chair, causing it to rock slightly.  Her mouth opened and closed uselessly like a fish gasping for air in a way that would have been comical under different circumstances.  

            Then in his quiet irreproachable voice, he said, "And I don't even think about leaving.  You're not going to pull that stunt again."

            She made a huffing sound and then moved away, going through cupboards and the refrigerator to find something for them to eat.  Years later Grace and Isabella would talk about it and try to figure out how many plates, glasses, and jars she broke this night.  They would never settle on a number, but both would agree that if she hadn't something much, much worse might have been broken.

            "Dad," Grace said, surprised to find she could speak.

            "Yes?" he replied.

            "She said she hates us."  She could feel Bella looking at her from above.

            "I know," he said quietly.  

            "Are we going to have to invite her over for Christmas?"  Across the room a plate dropped with a loud crash.  "Being that she's our sister and all?"  The pressure on her hand increased exponentially.

            "I don't think we'll have to worry about that right off."

            Later in the evening Mardi found herself wandering about the old house, going into rooms long closed up.  She couldn't sleep, couldn't relax, couldn't stop thinking about it.  She was in a particularly dusty room full of sewing equipment.  She had the idea that Martha had enjoyed making her own clothes.  How utterly quaint.

            Walking out of the room wiping the dust from hands, she ran into Bruce and immediately sneezed.  "Bless you," he said.  As she tried to move away he wrapped an arm around her waist.  

            "Leave me alone," she mumbled trying to push him away.

            "Mardi," he insisted, keeping his grip firm.  "You have got to understand something."

            "What?"

            "I had a life before I met you.  I did a lot of things and knew a lot of people.  I can't apologize for everything that happened in the past. But you gave me a new life, which is something I'd never hoped for.  Something I wouldn't change for anything."

            "It just hurts so much Bruce," she cried softly. 

            "I know and I _am_ sorry you have to suffer from my mistakes."

            "How many more things are going to pop up?  What else should I expect?"

            "I don't know.  I'd like to promise none, but I can't.  But nothing will change how I feel about you.  Ever."

            "I don't ever want to see her again and I don't want the kids anywhere near her."

            "I promise that won't be a problem."

            "What is it?  There's something you're not telling me."

            "She goes by the name Huntress…"

            "How sweet.  When do I get a clever nickname?"

            "I thought you had one already.  The Shrew?"

            "Touché.  Continue please."

            "She's a mercenary.  A gun for hire.  Ruthless from what I hear, and deadly."

            "Oh my god."

            "I told her I wouldn't tolerate anything like that in my city…or my family."

            "You gave her a choice?"

            "Yes."  Mardi closed her eyes and reeled slightly.  "She wants nothing to do with us.  Don't worry, she's gone for good."

            "I'm sorry Bruce," she said humbly.  "You don't need to lose any more family."

            "I have my family right here."

A/N:  This part of the story was actually inspired by a reader's comment, though I don't think it came out quite as the reviewer had envisioned ;)  I've obviously taken many liberties with the Huntress character, she's kind of an amalgam of Helena Bertollini from 'No Man's Land' (the novel, I don't read comics) and the character from BoP with a bit of my own twist.  Anyway, it just goes to show that everything said is free game for my demented mind!  Thanks for all of your kind support and always feel free to make suggestions.  Stay tuned for more! 


	7. Chapter 6 Remember With Honor

  
_I'll never let you down   
Even if I could   
I'd give up everything   
If only for your good   
So hold me when I'm here   
Right me when I'm wrong   
Hold me when I'm scared   
You won't always be there   
So love me when I'm gone   
Love me when I'm gone   
  
_When I'm Gone, 3 Doors Down  
  
  
  
2058  
  
            At home after the funeral Grace found Maria was in the kitchen feeding the baby.  The older woman looked up as she came in and smiled.

            "Di' things go well, _niña_?" she asked kindly.

            "Not really."  What was there to say?  A lot of sympathetic people that didn't have the first idea how she felt and a long lost sister she wished she'd never met.  Her head throbbed unbearably.  Maria nodded solemnly as Grace walked over and gave the small dark-haired child a kiss on his head.  "I got a lot of flack for not bringing him, but he's too young to know what's going on.  Besides it wasn't for us, it was for them.  We'll say goodbye in our own way, won't we killer?"  Bruce gurgled and stuffed more dry cereal into his mouth.

            "Miss Grace," Maria started tentatively.  "I been thinking.  Maybe Mrs. Mary is correct.  Maybe she taking the baby is a good idea?"

            Grace shook her head.  "He's my sister's child.  I'm not giving him up now."

            "Very well.  I'll help you any way I can."  She paused and looked at Grace expectantly.  "You go to school tomorrow, no?"

            Grace shook her head.  "No.  I won't be going back.  I never liked school anyway."

            There was a heavy sigh.  "_Niña_, I know it hurts, but you can't hide in this house forever."

            "No you don't know anything!  You have no idea how I feel!"

            Maria lowered her eyes.  "Back home in my country, there was war for freedom.  My brothers, my father, my uncles and cousins, they all fight knowing winning not possible and they all die.  But I remember them with honor."  She looked up again.  "Your father too was warrior for freedom.  You must too remember him - all of them - with honor, not anger and fear and doubt."  She got up and placed a hand on Grace's arm.  "A boat who loses its sail floats aimlessly until it runs aground.  Or sinks."

            "Is that what I'm doing, floating aimlessly?"

            "What do you think?"

            "I think that if I'd been stronger, smarter, more like…him, they'd be alive right now.  I failed them and I'm the one that survived.  Every time I close my eyes I can still see the blast and feel the heat, feel the burning."  She raised her hand to her forehead unconsciously.  "How can I know that any decision I make now is the right one?  How will I ever be sure of anything again?"

            "You won't _niña_," Maria said maternally, the subservient tone of before having vanished.  "But you should trust your heart.  It is a good heart, one your parents gave to you."

            _But right now it doesn't feel so good_, she thought sullenly.  "Thanks.  I'll be in my dad's study if you need me."

            The room was dark and cool, with its thick curtains drawn to keep out the summer sun.  She sat in the large leather chair, hands lying palm-down on the old oak desk, imagining the generations of Waynes that had preceded her. On the right corner was a famed photograph – Isabella radiant in white silk and lace, Terry beside to her with a huge grin.  Mardi smiled proudly next to Bruce who gave an air of mild indifference, even though they all knew he couldn't be happier.  And in front stood Grace, thirteen and ungainly, clad in the ugliest dress in the world and looking as if she'd rather be any place else.

            She swallowed back a sob as she reached for the picture.  She would give anything to relive that day.  
  
  
  
2054  
  
            Green.  Could there be a worse shade of green on God's, well, green earth?  Isabella Martha Wayne, most sought after debutante of modern Gotham society, beautiful, smart, and soon to be the savior of her family's company, had chosen the color of a lizard's underbelly for her bride's maids' dresses.

            Grace sighed for the millionth time as she stood before her floor-length mirror, regarding the rather pathetic image in the glass.  And just what did they think they were doing putting her into the wedding party anyway?  She was the proverbial ugly duckling with no hope of turning into a swan.  She pawed at her hair trying to make it lay down instead of sticking out at odd angles.  Why did she let her mother talk her into growing it out?  

            She left her room and knocked on her parent's door.  Mardi opened it with a smile.  "Hi honey.  Need some help?"

            "I need a new life," Grace moped.  "Why did she have to pick this color?  It's awful."

            "It's not that bad," Mardi chided gently.

            "It looks like an avocado exploded all over me."

            "It works with the color scheme honey.  Now come in and let me do your hair and makeup."

            Grace huffed, but allowed herself to be led to her mother's vanity table.  "Where's Dad?" she asked as Mardi sat her down on the bench and picked up her silver brush.

            "In the bathroom.  Now how would you like it?  Up?  Pulled back?  Braided?"

            "Shaved off?"

            Mardi sighed and ran the brush through her hair.  "How's Bella doing?"

            "How should I know?  She kicked me out.  Said I was under foot."

            Mardi sighed again.  "Well I guess I'll check in on her in a moment."

            Bruce walked through the bathroom door and Grace turned to look at him. "Ow!" she exclaimed as Mardi hit a snarl.

            "Sorry honey."

            "Mardi do you know where my cuff links are?"

            "Where they always are," she responded before walking over to a highboy, lifting the lid of a large, gold-plated box and reaching in to pluck out the tiny clips.  "Not that you have much use for them anymore now that you refuse to go anywhere."

            "Thank you," he said as she handed them to him.  Grace watched him place each one in the buttonholes of his tuxedo shirt.  She knew they were gold with a diamond-encrusted 'W' on each and that they had been in the family for five generations.

            "You could give those to Terry," she remarked and both parents looked at her expectantly.  "You know.  An 'M' is just an upside down 'W'."    She shrugged at their twin looks of incomprehension.  "It was just an idea."

            "It was a good idea sweetheart," her mother said as she resumed brushing.

            A short time later there was a sharp pounding at the door.  

            *Bang bang bang*  "Mother!  We're going to be late!  I can't be late for my own wedding!"

            "We've got plenty of time Bella.  Why don't you come in here and…."

            *Bang bang bang*  "Mom are you in there?!"

            Mardi looked into the mirror.  "She doesn't have her veil on yet, does she?"

            Grace shrugged.  The headdress had been specially made to conceal the HALO device, but it would not be worn until after her hair was done.

            "This is going to be a long day."  She walked over to the door.

            *Bang bang bang*  "Mo-ther…oh!" Isabella gasped as Mardi pulled the door open.

            "Come on in."  Mardi stepped aside and allowed her to enter, the voluminous gown swishing grandly around her and the lacy veil dangling from one clenched fist.  "You got dressed all by yourself?"

            Isabella nodded emphatically.  "Couldn't wait.  We need to be going.  I have to be at the church in an hour," she replied desperately.

            "Hour and a half," Mardi corrected.  "Let me finish with Grace and I'll fix up your hair."

            "You're trying to brush out that rats nest?  Good luck."  Grace stuck her tongue out in retaliation.

            "That's enough," Mardi commanded, forcing her head to look straight, and took the brush up again.

            In the mirror Grace saw Bella start pacing nervously and muttering probably louder than intended, "What was I thinking?  I can't pull this off.  Everything's going to be a complete disaster.  I'm a complete disaster." 

            Bruce walked over and gripped her arms firmly so that she would look directly at him, but then instead of speaking he released her and made a slow circular gesture with an open hand over his face.  Even backwards, Grace understood what he'd said:  "You look beautiful."

            That was when she burst into tears.  She sniffled, she wailed, and she hiccupped.  Bruce hugged her against him lovingly.

            Grace craned her neck to watch them and groaned.  "What is it about weddings that turns women into emotional idiots?"

            "I don't know Gracie, but if you don't stop fidgeting we're going to go with the shaving option after all."  
  
  
  
            It was an event of epic proportions and the money spent on it could have purchased a small European country.  But Bruce had never desired to own any countries so it was just as well.

            He walked her down the aisle arm-in-arm, a moment he'd never dreamt of before.  This woman, his daughter, was getting married and he was supposed to give her away.  How was a man supposed to give his child away to another without any qualms?  And it wasn't just any man, it was a man he'd brought into their lives, he'd allowed them to meet.  Was Terry really good enough for his little girl?

            Hadn't he trained him, given him everything he needed to be the perfect replacement?  Yet did being Batman qualify him to be Isabella's husband?  Were the two things mutually exclusive?

            But as the young man in question came into view at the end of the aisle he saw something in his face, an anticipation and maybe a little bit of fear but mostly he saw love.  That was good.

            The fear was better.

            Hours later after the vows were spoken and the battery of pictures taken, they were allowed to relax during the reception.  The cake had been cut and the rest of the formalities completed, many of the guests had already bid the new bride and groom farewell, leaving several handfuls of the young couple's contemporaries to enjoy the remaining festivities.  Mardi poked him in the arm and pointed across the room.  At a lone table partially in the dark sat Grace, her chin clasped between her hands dolefully.

            He got up and walked over to her.  "Hi," he said and she looked up.

            "Hi."

            "You're sulking."

            "Not."

            "I beg to differ.  What's wrong?"

            "Nothing.  I did everything that was expected of me.  I didn't ruin the princess's wedding, so why are you bugging me now?"

            At that moment the upbeat music that had been blaring throughout the room changed tempo to a more sedate melody and Bruce had an idea.  "Maybe I'd like to dance with you."

            She squinted at him skeptically.  "Really?"

            "Really."

            On the dance floor she shuffled with an awkward self-consciousness.  "Relax," he commanded quietly.  "Pretend you're on the practice mat."  She looked up at him with a bit of surprise and then shook the tension out of her muscles, allowing him to lead her gently across the floor.  "I've been meaning to talk to you about something," he said as they drew away from the nearest dancers.  "I'm sending them away on a honeymoon so they can have some time alone, per your mother's instructions.  That's going to leave Gotham needing a temporary protector."

            "Oh?"

            He nodded gravely.  "There's a Robin suit about your size waiting at home."

            Her mouth opened in comprehension.  "But the rule?  I'm not 14 yet."

            "Rules were made to be bent."

            "Are you sure I'm ready?"

            He smiled.  "You won't be doing anything too dangerous.  Just keeping things in order, and I'll be there to guide you.  We'll be a team."

            "A team?" she echoed with awe, tantalized by the prospect of having her father all to herself.  "That would be so schway!"  Then a thought occurred to her.  "And Mom's okay with it?"

            "Well…"

            "You did ask her didn't you?"

            "I mentioned it."

            "And?"

            "She muttered something about a birthright from hell before walking away."

            "That works, I suppose."  He nodded.  "Thanks Dad," she said.  "I'll try not to let you down."

            "I'm not worried about that.  Now speaking of your mother, I think she's about ready to leave.  Are you coming with us?"

            "Definitely.  Just let me say goodbye."

            She found Isabella and Terry chatting with a group of friends in corner.  Tapping her sister's arm to get her attention, she waved her over to an empty table.  Bella sat down in a chair so they could talk face to face.  "What's up squirt?"

            "We're leaving.  You're not coming back to the house after, are you?"

            "Nope.  We're heading to the airport and then it's straight to Jamaica, _mon!_"  Her eyes glittered happily. Grace nodded and shuffled her feet around.  "What's the matter kiddo?  Don't tell me you're actually going to miss me?"

            With a shrug Grace replied, "Maybe.  Just a little bit."  She took a deep breath.  "Dad, uh, sort of asked me to, um…"

            Isabella clutched Grace's hands in her own.  "I know!" she said with excitement.  "I helped refit the suit."  She tilted her head quizzically.  "I thought you'd be happier about it."

            "I guess I am, I'm just worried I'll screw up," Grace replied soberly.

            "You'll be great kiddo!  You've been training for this all your life.  You're a natural born crime fighter."

            "Uh huh," she said noncommittally.  "But I'll never be as good as you."

            "You don't have to be as good as me, just be as good as _you_," Bella encouraged with a gentle squeeze of her hands.

            Grace scrunched up her nose.  "That was kind of corny."

            "It was, wasn't it?"  Isabella giggled giddily, from too much champagne Grace presumed as she chuckled along with her.  "Hey seriously, there's something I've been meaning to tell you Grace.  I may not say it much, or at all even, but as far as little sisters go, I think I'm pretty lucky to have you, when you're not being a brat at least.  Thank you for standing beside me today.  It really meant a lot to have you there."

            "Oh, well, thanks I guess.  Gee, now I feel bad that I told everyone you stuffed your bra."

            "You didn't!" Bella gasped with a shocked expression.

            Grace grinned mischievously.  "Gotcha!"

            "Brat!  Come here."  She pulled Grace into a fierce hug, crushing her against her chest.

            "Can't breath," she gasped melodramatically.  "Death by lace."

            They were both laughing as Isabella released her.  "Now you'd better get going.  I have a lot of celebrating to get done and my husband is looking way too comfortable without me on his arm.  I'll send you a postcard from the Caribbean."  She stood up and placed a hand lovingly against her sister's head.  "You'll be fine.  We're Waynes, remember?"  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 7 Like a Kid in a Candy Store

  
  
_So lately, I've been wondering  
Who will be there to take my place  
When I'm gone, you'll need love  
To light the shadows on your face  
If a great wave should fall  
It would fall upon us all  
And between the sand and stone  
Could you make it on your own?  
_  
Wherever You Will Go, The Calling  
  
  
  
2058  
  
            The ringing telephone shook her out of her daydream.  She felt the wetness of the tears on her cheeks and wiped them away impatiently.  She'd never been such a crybaby before this.

            "Hello?" she answered the study's extension with an annoyed voice.  

            "Miss Wayne?  Grace?"

            "Yes?"

            "Oh, hi.  It's Ben.  Hudson.  Detective with the GPD.  I interviewed you after the bombing?"

            "What can I do for you Detective?" she asked crossly.  Her insides twisted at the mere mention of the incident.

            "Well I'm sitting in my car outside and thought I'd take you up on your offer."

            "Offer?" she echoed, frowning slightly.

            "You said I could stop by and you'd give me a tour of the, um, you know _cave_."

            Oh crap.  Did she actually do that?  Did she tell him everything?  It seemed like an eternity since she'd spoken to him, even though it had been only a few days.  But she did remember his warm brown eyes, pleasant smile, and easy-going demeanor.

            "Grace?" he prompted gently.

            "Of course.  Come in.  I'll meet you at the front door."  She dropped the handset back in the cradle, stood up, and walked to the entranceway.  As she opened the door he was mounting the last step.  "Detective Hudson," she greeted mildly.

            With a large grin he replied, "Please, it's just Ben."

            She nodded.  "Very well. Ben."

            She moved aside and allowed him into the house, closing the door behind him.  "Is there anything wrong?" he asked.  "You seem a little…distant."

            "You just caught me at a bad time, with the funeral this morning.  Then again, it's all been bad."  He nodded sympathetically.  "I'm sorry, I actually forgot that I told you about, you know."

            "That's okay.  If it's a problem I can come back, or we can forget the whole thing.  I didn't mean to impose."

            "No, no.  You're not imposing, I just…just…" she sighed and closed her eyes.  Impulsively, he reached to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.  At his touch her eyes flew open and her left hand came up, grabbing his wrist and before he knew what had happened he was flat on the floor feeling the cold of the marble floor seeping through his clothes and skin.

            "Was it something I said?" he groaned.

            "I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed and helped him to his feet.  "I'm sorry, but you surprised me."

            "That's okay.  I'm used to dates deflecting my advances, but this is new," he tried joking while massaging his arm.

            "Well come on," she said tersely, and waved for him to follow her.  She paused outside the study then proceeded inside.  He watched her move the hands of the large grandfather clock, pull on one of the pendulums, and then saw it swing effortlessly to the side, revealing a large portal.  Ben could feel the cool, damp air waft around him.  "This way."

            She flipped several switched at the entrance and light flooded the area beneath them then she led him down into a different world.

            "Wow!" he breathed taking in the massive surroundings.  "It's bigger than I ever dreamt it would be."

            "You've dreamt about the Batcave?" she asked him dryly.

            "Hasn't everyone?" he replied with a lopsided grin she found endearing despite herself.

            Ben moved about, investigating everything, mumbling to himself and giving barks of surprise and astonishment.  He touched, smelled, and seemed to absorb all the details like an aficionado at the Louvre.  Grace just stood next to her father's chair, arms folded across her chest, and watched with detached amusement.

            Finally he came around and stood before her.  "This is…is about the most amazing thing I've ever seen."  He looked like a boy who's just received the keys to a candy store.

            "Well I'm glad you liked it."

            "You're not serious about closing it up for good are you?"

            "Yes.  Why shouldn't I?"

            "It's history.  It's important.  Batman's important!"

            "Batman's dead," she said, voice tinted with anger.

            "That doesn't have to be true," he said quietly.

            Grace felt her stomach drop.  "What's that supposed to mean?" she gritted.

            "I mean he's been gone before, and someone else took over.  This could be the same thing."

            "Who?" she asked, heart pounding, hurting.

            "You of course.  You have the training, I learned that first hand."  She shook her head.  "Don't you want to find out who killed your family?" he asked with exasperation.

            "No, I want _you_ to find out who killed my family.  That's your job!"

            He shook his head sadly.  "Grace I'm sorry, but even with what you told me we can't pick up any good leads.  Not without spilling the beans."

            She frowned.  "But I told you, didn't you put it in the report?"

            "No.  Because…"

            "Because you didn't believe me," she scoffed.

            "At first," he agreed.  "But then I figured if you were telling the truth, we should keep it a secret."

            "We?  This is _my_ family we're talking about Ben.  I decide if it stays a secret, if there's going to be another Batman.  Which there isn't," she insisted.

            "I want to tell you something, Grace," he started earnestly.  "My grandmother was part of the GPD years ago and worked with your dad.  She respected him very much, our whole family did.  I became a cop partially to follow in the footsteps of my dad and grandma, but also because of Batman."

            She stared at him, and then licked her lips and ran her fingers through her hair.  "Do you know why my father became Batman?" she asked with an unsteady voice.  He shook his head.  "Because he saw his parents murdered right in front of his eyes.  This is how he coped with his pain.  Does that sound _healthy_ to you?  This is the man you revered, who couldn't even face the simplest emotions.  I am not going to be like that.  I'm going to cry and probably scream and maybe even break a few things, but I _will_ get over it.  I'm not going to bury myself alive down here as penance for surviving!"  By the time she was done the tears fell and her lower lip quivered.   He reached for her, but she backed away.  Swallowing, she asked, "Do you have any idea what my parents' marriage was like?"

              He was startled at the change of conversation.  "Um, well I've seen pictures and they seemed happy."

            "They were.  Sometimes.  But there was a tension, always an undercurrent of unpleasantness.  Bella said they weren't always like that, that they were very happy.  Before, you know."

            "I don't understand."

            "They loved each other.  He loved her; I have to believe that.  It wasn't like the bimbettes that he dealt with just to keep that reputation he cultivated and it wasn't like the _other_ women, the ones that knew, that he actually cared about, but they never worked because, well, he didn't work.  Couldn't take the distractions, felt guilty, who knows.  By the time he met my mom he was already retired, from both jobs.  And she didn't fall at his feet like most women did."  Her words came faster and faster and her hands flew through the air like impatient butterflies.  "They didn't have a thing in common, yet somehow they…worked.  But once she found out what he really was, things changed.  She found out she wasn't his number one priority, and maybe that was selfish, but she had a point.  Don't you think she had a point?"

            "Uh, well, I guess so," he sputtered, confused.

            "Of course she did."  Grace was crying softly now, head bowed.  

            He lifted a hand to touch her, but hesitated, remembering what had happened earlier.  "Grace, they were together for over thirty years and had two beautiful daughters.  I'm sure it wasn't as bad as you're making it out to be."

            She looked up at him, eyes wide and bright, and said as if she hadn't even heard him, "It doesn't take a saint to put on that suit."

            "I know."

            "No you don't, you can't possibly know.  It's an obsession that slowly eats away at you, until there's nothing left.  The same thing was happening to Terry, that's why his first marriage didn't work."  She shook her head and chewed on her lip.  "I did it once," she confessed softly.  "I tried it, and failed miserably."

            Ben waited even though he was touched by her pain, torn between wanting to comfort her and discovering all her secrets.

            She turned and walked into the darkness of the cave, over to a crevasse that looked bottomless.  She was unfazed by its endless depths and dropped to the edge, feet dangling down.  Ben hesitated a few feet away.  Without turning she said, "Chicken."

            Gingerly Ben stepped forward and carefully lowered himself down beside her.  "Better?"

            "Not really."  She sighed.  "It wasn't _The_ Suit.  Just a modified Robin costume that my sister had used a few times.  Mom and Dad had insisted Terry and Isabella go on a honeymoon, but you know crime never takes a vacation…"  
  



	9. Chapter 8 The Unveiling

  
  
2054  
  
            "Explain to me again what I'm doing here," Mardi said through gritted teeth as she raised her champagne glass to her lips.  The words weren't spoken loud enough for anyone in the large reception room to hear, but the individual she was addressing understood the comment well enough.

            The small device – serving as both receiver and transmitter – buzzed in her ear.  "Attending the unveiling of a rare Rembrandt painting on behalf of the Wayne family, and keeping an eye out for any unusual activity."

            "And why aren't you here?" she asked, again under cover of a broad society smile.  Only twenty minutes had passed since her arrival and she already felt miserable from small talk with people she'd never grown accustomed to associating with.

            "Because I hate those things.  And I need to be here to back-up Grace."

            "Um about that…"  Before she could finish a tall, silver-haired woman strode grandly towards her.

            "Mardi!  What a thrill!  I'm so glad you came.  No Bruce though?" she questioned casting a glance about the throng of partygoers.

            "Hello Millicent," Mardi replied pleasantly.  "No I'm afraid Bruce sends his deepest regrets.  But you know how it is at that age.  Things just stop working or fall off altogether.  Most days I have to remind him not to eat the soap.  It must be terrible," she said smoothly, grinning falsely the entire time, feeling like her cheeks would split open any minute.

            "Oh," Millicent Fontaine said, her expression faltering.  Regaining composure she continued, "Well give him our best will you?"  Then she was gone, mingling with the rest of the crowd like a perfect hostess.

            "I heard that," he growled.

            "Good."  She grinned for real this time.  Fact was, at 85 he still ran circles around other men, partly due to residual effects from the Lazarus Pit, but mostly due to the years of intense training and dedication.  He still had to be careful and had thankfully slowed down, but he wasn't nearly as frail as people were lead to believe.  She'd have him for a while longer at least.

            She nodded politely as another couple waved from across the room, and recalled her interrupted train of thought.  Grace.  She still couldn't believe she'd even agreed to this, but perhaps she was just so stunned by his even bringing up the subject or too wrapped up in wedding details that she'd forgotten to be angry.  Or maybe she had mellowed to the point where it ceased to rankle her.  Now, however, she really was having second thoughts.  "I don't like having her out there.  Especially on a school night," she finished weakly.

            "She's fine.  It's been slow.  It's more to keep up appearances while Terry's out of town."

            "But she's not exactly Batman," she reminded him while leaning down to inspect a ficus plant.

            "That's not the point.  It's the mask.  Any mask will do.  Criminals know there's a mask around they'll think twice."

            "If you say so," she responded, uninterested in his assessment of the criminal psyche.  All she knew was that her younger daughter was out in the cold, instead of safe at home studying.

            She left the ficus and wandered back into the thick of the party, which focused on the large painting hung prominently on the south wall.  The canvas showed a small girl of about 3 or 4 years old in a sailor outfit kneeling down on a riverbank and pushing a small sailboat out into the current.  The existence of the painting was discovered only ten months previously in the basement of a small Dutch library, and it had since been certified a genuine Rembrandt.  The auction was attended by invitation only (the Waynes had RSVPed with a respectful declination) and was eventually won by Emile and Millicent Fontaine with the astronomical bid of $50 million.

            Millicent was so excited about her newest acquisition she decided to throw a lavish party for its unveiling.  Normally neither one of them would have accepted the invitation, but Bruce felt it was a prime target for art thieves and thought having someone on the 'inside' would be beneficial.

            Mardi sipped her champagne again and walked to the front of the crowd to get a better look at the guest of honor.  It was undeniably breathtaking and she was momentarily glad to have come.

            "Beautiful isn't it?" a deep voice asked from her right.  She turned to look at the speaker and felt her breath catch in her throat.  He was tall, about as tall as Bruce, with rich mahogany hair and silver-gray eyes.  The smile he gave her showed a mouth full of straight, white teeth.  He must have been in his mid to late forties.

            "Yes, it is.  I was just thinking how breathtaking it was."

            "And luckily for me, not the only thing that's breathtaking in this room."

            "I'm sorry, do we know each other?" she questioned, feeling a little lightheaded.

            He shook his head, the unabashed smile never faltering.  "No, I'm in town briefly on business.  My associate invited me, friend of a friend, you might say."  He bent down closer, his breath blowing across her bare shoulder.  "You're not here alone, are you?  I admit I've been watching you, and I haven't seen you with anyone."

            "Uh, as a matter of fact I did come alone," she said, feeling her heart thud inside her chest and the hairs on her arms stand on end.  His look seared down to her very core, his intentions not at all ambiguous.  She was flattered and disconcerted at the same time that this incredibly attractive man would be hitting on her.  The royal blue velvet gown accentuated a figure she still attempted to maintain, but there was only so much that could be done.  Her hair was about forty percent gray since she'd given up on coloring it, and though the wrinkles on her face were not quite so telling as some other women her age, it was more than obvious she'd reached the far side of middle age.

            "That's a relief.  My, it's rather warm in here.  Would you care to step out onto the terrace for some air?  Here, let me refresh your drink first."  He spoke quickly, overwhelmingly.  He took the glass from her hand and flagged a passing waiter before she could respond.  A new glass was passed to her and he placed a hand on her back, guiding her through the French doors into the night, closing the doors behind them.  Out there the crisp evening air was a shock to her system.  She shivered and rubbed her bare arms.  "It does get chilly after sundown, doesn't it?  Here take this."  He promptly removed his jacket and hung it over her shoulders.

            "Thanks," she said.  "But I won't be out here long.  It was kind of stuffy in there."  She adjusted the jacket around her.  "So are you planning on introducing yourself?"

            He grinned and the moonlight picked up a charming dimple on his left cheek.  "I'm Maxwell Simms," he asked putting his hand out.

            Shaking it, she replied, "Mardi Wayne."

            The grin widened and he dropped a suggestive wink.  "I know.  Somebody pointed you out to me when you walked in.  I've been dying to get you alone.  I hope you don't mind."

            "For what, putting the moves on me?"  She laughed lightly, placing the champagne glass on the terrace wall and facing him fully.  "It won't work anyway."

            "Oh," he remarked.  "Is that so?"  She nodded.  "Well, from what I hear your husband's a bit, uh how should I say this…?"

            "Old?"

            Maxwell grinned sheepishly.  "I wasn't trying to be offensive."

            "You weren't."

            "Like hell he wasn't," Bruce's voice penetrated her brain.  She ignored it.

            "What I mean is, a lovely woman like you, must be…longing for some real attention."  He reached up on finger and dragged it softly across her shoulder.

            "What are you doing talking to that dreg?  Get back to the party."

            "In a minute," she breathed.

            "Excuse me?"

            "I said, 'Is that so?'"

            "Well yeah.  You always hear about these old geezers marrying younger women, you know, as arm candy.  I find these women usually benefit from my companionship."

            Mardi had to bite her lip to keep a straight face.  "And I don't blame them.  Do you charge for this…companionship?"

            He placed his right hand against his chest.  "You wound me.  I'm not some gigolo."

            "That's refreshing.  So you do it out of the kindness of your heart then?"

            "Well I get something out of the relationship too you know," he replied in a hoarse whisper as he leaned in close, pushing her against the stone railing, bringing his mouth in line with hers.  "You are a very attractive woman Mardi."

            "That's very flattering."

            One of his hands rested intimately on her shoulder.  "It's the truth.  I'm sure you don't get to hear it often enough."  His lips continued toward hers.

            "Does anyone?" she asked coyly and then raised her hand up and placed the palm against his shirt, halting his ardent pursuit.  "You certainly give a girl a lot to think about," she said coquettishly, drawing her hand up to his shoulder and behind his neck, shifting her lower body at an angle to his.  "But there's really something you should know."  With surprise on her side more than strength, she slammed her knee into his groin.  Maxwell gave a painful, constricted groan, and dropped slowly to the terrace floor, his face reddening, and eyes clenched together.  Mardi slipped off the jacket and laid it across him like a blanket.  She squatted down in front of him and placed a gentle hand on his knee.  "What you need to know is that I was never 'arm candy' to my husband.  And any attention that I'm longing for will be more than satisfied in my own bedroom."  She hooked a finger under his chin and forced him to face her.  "My husband is a hundred times more man than a second rate hustler like you ever will be.  Enjoy the rest of your visit to Gotham, Mr. Simms."

              Picking up the glass she walked back into the reception room, carefully closing the terrace doors behind her to give her new acquaintance a little privacy.  "Feel better?" she asked softly.

            There was only silence and she was afraid the transmitter had malfunctioned, until he finally spoke to her.  "Don't ever do that again."

            "Why not?  He deserved it."

            "I'm talking about your flirting."

            "You have to be kidding me.  You know I didn't mean it."

            "Doesn't matter.  I don't want to see you do anything like that again."

            "You were jealous."

            "No.  It was unseemly behavior."

            "You were.  Admit it and I'll promise never to flirt again."  Silence.  "I mean it Bruce, admit it or I'm going to pick a random guy in here and…"  Before she could finish her threat the lights suddenly went out, punctuated by cries of alarm throughout the room.  "Well, well, well, does this count as something unusual?" she asked as the emergency lights came on and gave a weak attempt at illumination.

            "What's going on?"

            "Blackout."  Above the room two skylights imploded and four men, silhouetted against the bright moonlit night, dropped down on ropes.  "And we've got company."

            The men landed on the floor, immediately pulling out large laser guns, trained on the shocked party guests.  "At least four that I can see," she whispered, holding her hand to her face for cover.  She was standing behind the ficus plant she'd looked at earlier, between it and the wall, hoping to stay out of the gunmen's way.  "Really big guns, all wearing half masks covering their noses and mouths.  Dressed completely in black."

            "Any discernable marks?"

            "Not that I can tell."

            "I've radioed the police.  And Grace.  She's only a few blocks away."

            "No!  I don't want her in the middle of this."

            "It's already done."

            She clenched her eyes together in frustration.  A hand clamped onto her arm, squeezing like a vice grip, and pulled her out of her hiding place.  "What do we have here?" a sleek, oily voice asked from behind the black mask.  Dark eyes regarded her from above.

            "Uh, I was just hiding.  I'm sorry, I don't want any trouble."

            "Who were you talking to?" he asked.

            "Talking?  Probably just to myself.  I do that when I'm scared."

            His eyes narrowed and flicked to the side.  The hand holding her arm released and moved up to her hair.  Like a magician, he plucked the transmitter from her ear.  "Talking to yourself, eh?"  The gun was brought up to her chin, forcing her head back.  "Who…were…you …talking to?" he repeated, thrusting the gun harder with each word.

             Her lips trembled and she was on the verge of tears, when sounds of commotion distracted the thief.  They both turned to see what had happened.  Two of the masked men were rolling around on the floor wrapped up in bolos that had been shot from the shadows.  The third man on guard from the attack shot several bursts from his weapon towards the direction the bolos had come.  From his left a smaller figure dressed in a body-length black costume with splashes of yellow, green, and red launched itself into the air, kicking the man in the head before landing behind him.  The man twirled around to face his opponent only to be met with several quick punches to the stomach and a roundhouse kick that swept his feet out from under him with a grunt of surprise.  Before he had a chance to regroup his hands were quickly bound. 

            The man who'd found Mardi growled deep in his throat as he witnessed the almost military precision at which the intruder had immobilized the others.  Grabbing Mardi at the back of the neck he thrust her forward.  "Just what do we have here?" he shouted out.

            A small black domino mask and an economical and equally black cape finished off the outfit.  "I'm Robin," the little figure announced with only the slightest quaver in the voice.  "Let her go!" Robin commanded and Mardi felt the hand squeeze even tighter.

            "There hasn't been a Robin around here for years.  But it doesn't matter who you are, I came for one thing and one thing only: that painting, and I don't intend to leave without it.  So what's your choice," he raised the gun to Mardi's temple, "The woman or the painting?"

            The small crime fighter stood her ground for a moment, and then said, "Let her go."  It was a plea this time, an admission of defeat.  Mardi wondered if she had waited for Bruce's order before making the concession.

            "Good choice," the man said and dragged Mardi across the open expanse of the room, the rest of the guests having gathered together against the opposite wall.  He stopped in front the painting and ordered Mardi to her knees.  "You stay there and behave while I take this down and there won't be any trouble.  Agreed?"  She nodded, resisting every impulse that pushed her to go to her daughter.  A small laser cutter helped him remove the canvas from its grandiose frame.  He rolled the picture tightly, stuffed it into a tube hanging on his back, and lifted Mardi back to her feet, walking her over to one of the ropes that still hung from the skylights.

            Robin stepped forward.  "You said you were going to let her go!"

            "Relax kid, she's just a little insurance.  Can't have little Bat Babies following me, can I?  Once I get away, she'll be set free."  He put one arm around Mardi's waist and grabbed onto the rope with the other, yanking firmly on it.  A grinding noise could be heard from above and they slowly began to rise.

            "I'm not going anywhere with you!" Mardi cried out and started struggling.  Her flailing arm smashed into the thief's face.  Stunned, he released his grip on her, and she dropped with a heavy thud.  Without another glance back he continued his ascent.  Mardi looked up at her little Robin and nodded.  A Batarang flew high and severed the rope.  The thief came tumbling down, landing on his back hard enough to knock the wind out of him.  The painting was removed and he was trussed up with the rest of his cohorts.

            "Oh my God!  Thank you so much!" Millicent Fontaine exclaimed as she came rushing forward, picking up the priceless canvas and hugging it to her breast.  "You are so wonderful!"  She leaned forward as if to plant a kiss on the top of Robin's head, but the child was too quick and stepped back.

            "No problem, Ma'am," she muttered then walked over to where Mardi still lay on the floor.  "Are you okay, Mom?" she asked softly.

            "Just a little shaken up, thank you."  Mardi wanted to grab her into a fierce hug, but remained nonchalant as she was helped to her feet.  "You did a wonderful job…Robin."

            The sounds of police pounding up the stairs demanded everyone's attention. "I'd better get out of here before there's too many questions."  Mardi simply nodded, understanding how the police might react to a pint-sized vigilante.  Robin shot a grapple through a skylight and rose quickly towards the rooftop.

            As she glanced down one last time, Mardi mouthed the word, "Home."  She gave a terse nod of comprehension and was lost in the darkness.  
  
  
  
            Robin rode her new motorcycle into the Batcave, cutting off the engine with a grim finality.  She removed her helmet and then her mask.  Bruce watched skeptically.  He could read her body language like a billboard, but he said nothing.

            She walked over to him.  "Well how did I do?" she asked nervously.

            "You did very well, all things considered."

            "Can you believe that old bag was only interested in her stupid painting?  People could have died."  She frowned.  "Mom could have died."

            "She didn't.  You did exactly what you were supposed to do."  Grace shrugged.  "What is it?" he asked.

            She chewed on her lip for a moment, and then said quietly, "You did this every night for most of your life?"

            "Yes?" he replied.

            "Did you ever wonder what you'd have been like if you hadn't?"

            He touched his fingertips together thoughtfully.  "I don't think I would have liked that person very much," he finally replied honestly.  "It filled a certain void in my life, that otherwise might have been filled by self-destructive behavior and a lack of focus."

            She plucked at the edge of her cape.  "But what if you don't have a void to fill?  Or even an insane desire to kick butt every night?" she asked hesitantly.

            "You've never been expected to follow in my footsteps."

            "Isabella did," she muttered.  "Does it perfectly too."

            "Your sister has a strong sense of justice."

            "And I don't," she responded with a hurt voice.

            "It wasn't meant as an insult.  Grace, you have your own talents and you can only ever be who you are.  This isn't something to do if you're not going to give it a hundred percent.  You'll put yourself, and others, at risk.  What do you want to do?  It's a question only you can answer."

            "I don't think I can, then."  He waited silently for her to continue.  "I've always seemed to know that I wasn't like you or Bella or even Terry, it's like I'm missing something, because I don't feel it, in here," she pointed to her heart.  "I'm just not Bat material.  I'm sorry."

            "Sorry for what?"

            "I hate to disappoint you."

            He waited for a beat then smiled.  "You could never disappoint me.  Your place in this family, and in my heart, is assured, no matter what you do."  She blushed and then grinned in relief and threw her arms around his neck.  "I love you Grace," he whispered into her ear.

            "I love you too Daddy," she replied hoarsely and when she stood back, he saw her wipe the tears from her cheeks.

            "Now get to bed."

            She nodded and ran full-tilt up the stairs.  Bruce went back to his work, and in less than an hour was joined by his wife.  "Well?" she asked.

            "Well what?"

            Her lips spread out into a huge smile.  "How did I do?" she asked, unaware she'd echoed her own daughter's words.

            "Aside from the flirting?"

            "You're not going to start that again are you?"  She crossed her arms.  "How's Grace?"

            "She's reevaluating her priorities."

            "Huh?"

            "Let's just say she'll have plenty of time to study now."

            "Well that is good news."  She smiled slyly and reached down to grab his hand, tugging at it.  "Come on," she coaxed.

            "What?"

            "It's late, there's nothing left for you to do, and I really don't want to spend the night alone.  Plus I can show you just how much I do _not_ need to flirt with another man.  Come on," she whispered seductively.  "I won't hurt you."

            It occurred to him that she hadn't been this playful in years as he allowed himself to be pulled out of the chair. Together they mounted the steps and as they reached the study he said, "What did you have in mind?"

            "What's the matter, you don't trust me?  Don't worry, if you die, it'll be with a smile on your face."  She grinned wickedly.

            "I knew it.  All this time you've been waiting for the right moment.  You're just after my money."

            She narrowed her eyes.  "Ha!  Shows what you know.  If I'd wanted your money I would have taken it years ago when I was young and beautiful and could still enjoy it."

            "Don't kid yourself," he contradicted with a growl and as expected she rose to the bait.  Her eyebrows shot up and she opened her mouth, but he interrupted, saying tenderly, "You're still as beautiful as the day I met you."

            She processed his words and then threw her head back and laughed.  "Now there's the Bruce Wayne charm I've heard so much about."  She hooked her arm around his waist, nuzzling against his neck.  It felt so good to just hold her, feel her heart beat counter to his own.  He reached up and removed the clip holding her hair back, running his fingers through it, the other hand caressing the luxurious fabric that covered her hip.  "Oh Bruce," she muttered against the skin of his throat, causing a shiver down his spine, "I love you so much."

            Then there was the soft rhythmic thump of running feet.  "Hey Mom, are you home….oh my god!" Grace cried out as she reached the doorway, slapping her hands over her eyes.  "You're not doing what I think you're doing!"

            "What is that, dear?" Mardi asked giddily, still wrapped in Bruce's arms.

            "Argh!" she grimaced.  "I'm scarred for life!"

            Mardi pulled away, walked over, and put her hand on Grace's shoulder.  "I think you'll survive."  She smiled.  "After tonight I think you could survive anything."

            She looked so tiny standing there in her long cotton nightgown with its pattern of blue roses, so much different than the Kevlar and spandex Robin suit.  "Well that's what I came down to see you for," she said with a deep breath.  "I told Dad I wasn't going to do the Bat thing anymore."

            "He mentioned something about that. Any specific reason?"

            Grace lifted a shoulder.  "It seemed like the right thing to do.  And besides, I'd rather concentrate on art.  Are you okay with it?"

            "Of course.  I'm delighted that I've given birth to one sane child."  She bent down and kissed her on the cheek.

            "Great.  Well goodnight."  She looked over to her father with a worried look.  "Just…be careful okay?"

            Mardi's laughter filled the room.  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 9 A Night From Hell

  
  
_ I'm not afraid of tomorrow,   
I'm only scared of myself,   
Feels like my insides are on fire and I'm looking through the eyes of someone else  
_  
Tomorrow, SR-71  
  
  
  
2058  
  
            "So you walked in on them?"

            "Yes.  No!  That's not the point!"  They were still sitting on the edge of the underground ravine.  Irritably, Grace threw a stone into the huge black hole.

            "But you succeeded.  In your mission."

            "Sort of, well yes, but that's not the point either," she sighed in exasperation.

            "What is the point Grace?  I don't see how you 'failed miserably'?" Ben asked, pressing close, unconsciously taking her hand in his.

            "The point is I realized it's not who I am. You just can't force a square peg into a round hole," she insisted.

            "Yeah that's what you said before, but I don't understand how it can not be you, I mean it's practically in your blood."

            "Blood?" she said with a horrified expression.  "Blood? It's in my blood?  If it was that easy my family would be alive right now."

            "I don't understand."

            She pulled her hand away and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.  "My sister was perfect, you know.  Even deaf she still managed to be perfect.  Beautiful, intelligent, witty, and above all completely Batman's daughter.  She should have been the one to survive, she'd take care of everything.  All I want to do is sleep." 

            "That's a perfectly normal response…"

            "To what?  Having my entire family incinerated in front of my eyes?"  She shook her head.  "I wasn't even supposed to exist.  And now here I am, alone and it's all my fault."

            Ben was overcome with empathy to her despair.  "I don't believe that.  You are beautiful, and talented, and caring.  And I'm incredibly grateful that you do exist."  He leaned closer and so did she, as if they had suddenly become magnetized, and before he knew it he was kissing her.  It was even sweeter than he had imagined, but he forced himself to pull away.  "I'm sorry," he said with a husky voice.  "That won't ever happen again."

            She licked her lips and said, "That's too bad."

            "Uh, I just mean, that given your age, it would be rather inappropriate.  It had nothing to do with the kiss itself," he sputtered.

            "I turn eighteen on Christmas," she replied.

            "We'll just have to see.  Until Christmas then."  He leaned back to give himself the proper distance, to be the proper cop.  "Now, why do you think it was your fault?"

            "I shouldn't have kept quiet.  If only I'd told," she mumbled sadly staring off into the darkness.

            "Grace honey, stay focused.  I want to help you, but I can't if you aren't straight with me.  Okay?  Now from the top, please?"

            "Okay," she agreed.  "It was my parents' thirtieth anniversary, you knew that, right?"  He nodded and she continued.  "It was getting late and Mom asked me to come down here and find out what was keeping Bella and Terry…"

Three Days Earlier

            Grace happily skipped down the steps.  Mardi had finally relented and had allowed her to wear the diamond earrings and necklace she'd gotten from her father, Simon, many years ago.  With her red – okay dark pink – dress, she finally felt like she was close to growing up, and oh was she ready to not be the baby of the family anymore.

            At the bottom she heard Isabella's strained voice.  "Terry can you hear me?  Come in!"  She was sitting at the computer, leaning forward, anxiety stretched across her face.

            "Hey.  What's up?" Grace asked, but Bella held her hand up for silence.

            "Terry?" she said, almost pleading.

            There was a horrible silence and Grace was sure her brother-in-law was dead, that he had finally met the enemy he couldn't defeat.  But then there was a brief spurt of static and his voice, choked but strong, came through.  "I'm okay."  Bella sagged in relief and Grace clapped her hands softly together.  "They came out of nowhere and jumped me.  At least twenty of them.  But just as quickly as they came, they took off.  I don't know, it was weird."  He coughed heavily.

            "Terry?" Bella asked nervously.

            "My ribs.  I don't think they're broken, but they're definitely bruised."

            "Okay, just get back here ASAP, Mom and Dad are waiting."

            "I'll be there before you know it.  Batman out."

            Isabella sat back and rubbed the bridge of her nose.  "What happened?" Grace asked.

            "He was investigating a Kobra nest.  God I hate those slimy rats," she huffed.

            "Don't you mean snakes?"

            Isabella waved at her in dismissal.  "I guess they surprised him."  She stood up and smoothed her dress.  It was sleeveless and made out of a shimmering silver color, the thin silver band around her head looking like nothing more than a chic matching accessory.  "So where did you get those?" she asked as she pointed to Grace's neck.

            "Mom lent them to me.  Jealous?"

            Isabella smiled, relieving the strain of before.  "Hardly.  I was wearing them when you were still in diapers.  Speaking of jewels, did you see what Dad got her for their anniversary?"

            Grace nodded.  The stunning amethyst and diamond necklace with matching bracelet he had ordered to go with Mardi's wedding ring made the trinkets she was wearing look like cheap paste and were about the most amazing things she'd ever seen.  "She'll love them.  What do think he'll say about the cruise?"  Mardi had arranged a trip circumnavigating the globe on a luxurious ocean liner.  They would be gone at least six months.

            "He'll protest at first, but I think he'll give in eventually, especially if we help apply pressure.  They never had a real honeymoon."

            "They didn't?" Grace asked with a perplexed expression.  "Why not?"

            Isabella raised an eyebrow.  "Because Mom was pregnant, and feeling pretty lousy from what I've heard."

            "She was pregnant?"

            "Do the math squirt – today's their thirtieth anniversary…my thirtieth birthday is…."

            Grace frowned and began tapping at her fingers counting the months.  "Oh!" she cried out.  "I never realized that before."

            "That's okay."

            "So how are things at the office?" Grace asked idly to pass the time.

            Isabella yawned.  "Not bad. Mac said I'm ready to take on a deal on my own, so I've been trying to acquire this little factory in Kansas."

            "Kansas?" Grace asked with the contempt of a Gotham native who believed the world began and ended at the city limits.  "What's in Kansas?"

            Isabella laughed in response.  "An amazing new material that's going to change the way we do things in space, and Wayne Enterprises is going to be the proud new owner, much to the dismay of some other CEOs.  I've been on the phone all day trying to seal the deal."  She squeezed Grace's arm gently, and then turned towards the exterior cave entrance.  "I think our boy's home."

            The Batmobile stopped with one final whoosh and Batman leapt out, pausing for a second as he hit the ground and held his chest.  He approached the sisters and removed his cowl.  A slight bruise had started forming on his left cheek.

            "Oh Ter," Isabella whispered sadly.  "You look a mess."

            "I'll be good as new after a shower, Belle," he said with a smile and kissed her on the forehead.  Turning towards Grace he said, "How you doing munchkin'…"

            An alarm sounded suddenly splitting through the quiet of the underground grotto and the Batcomputer came to life.  "Warning!  Unauthorized radio signal intercepted emanating from within Batcave.  Repeat, warning…"

            Grace looked around expecting to see someone or something foreign standing close by, but Terry and Isabella were already in motion towards the 'Mobile.  A step behind him, she spotted the small blinking device on his shoulder.  "Hold up Terry."  She plucked it off and showed it to him.  Without another word he took it and pressed it between his gloved fingers.  The strength of the suit turned it into silicone dust in less than a second.  "My god," Isabella breathed.

            Grace walked up to them.  "What was it?"

            "A tracer," Bella answered.  The three shared a look.  "The Kobras must have placed it during the fight.  That's why they took off.  So they could track you down later."  He nodded grimly.

            "We have to tell Dad," Grace said with a cracked voice.

            "No," Terry replied firmly.  "We took care of it.  They won't have enough time to track it."

            Grace looked at her sister who nodded in agreement.  "You can't be serious.  He needs to know!"  
            "Honey, it's their thirtieth anniversary.  You don't want to mess that up do you?  Terry's right, they can't trace it that fast.  We'll talk about it with him tomorrow.  Everything will be fine, I promise."

            "What's going on down there?" Mardi shouted from the study entrance.  "We heard a noise."

            "Nothing Mom," Isabella called back up not taking her eyes of Grace.  "False alarm."

            "Well that's fine, but we have reservations at seven.  We need to be going."

            "We'll be up in a second."  She raised an eyebrow at Grace who closed her eyes and turned away in disgust.  "Get a move on Terry.  Your tux is in the changing room."

            "Yes dear." 

            Dinner was as near to perfect as you could get.  The staff was extra attentive and ensured every course was flawless thanks to the promise of a hefty tip and the flash of a brilliant smile from Gotham's reigning princess.  Grace pushed aside her doubts about the evening and joined in with the celebration, even toasting with her small glass of champagne.  Gifts were exchanged after they finished eating.  Mardi loved the jewelry, throwing her arms around Bruce and holding him so long they thought she'd become permanently attached, dabbing her eyes as she finally sat down.  He was expressionless as he read the itinerary for the proposed trip.  Grace and Isabella were about to launch into a dual assault in anticipation of his rejection, but before they could he leaned over and kissed Mardi very tenderly on the cheek.  "It's wonderful," he said.

            In the middle of the restaurant was a small dance floor complete with band.  As if on queue the musicians launched into an old love ballad.  At its first notes Bruce and Mardi looked at each other, then he held his hand out.  "Shall we?"

            She laughed softly, but took his hand and he led her out to the middle of the floor drawing her close.

            The vocalist stepped up to the synth-mike and started singing in a clear voice:  
  
_And I'd give up forever to touch you  
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow  
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be  
And I don't want to go home right now  
_  
            Heads turned to watch the handsome couple glide slowly across the floor.  There were smiles and nods and whispers of approval, but no one made an effort to join them, leaving the pair to the solitary dance they'd never gotten to enjoy on their wedding day.

_  
And all I can taste is this moment  
And all I can breathe is your life  
'Cause sooner or later it's over  
I just don't want to miss you tonight  
  
_            Grace elbowed her sister.  "Did you arrange this?" she hissed.  Isabella gave her a mild 'Who, me?' look and returned to watch her parents with a contented expression.

_  
And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming  
Or the moment of truth in your lies  
When everything feels like the movies  
And you bleed just to know you're alive  
  
_            Bruce bent down and kissed Mardi's temple.  "Thank you," he whispered to her.

            She looked up with wide, gentle eyes.  "What for?"

            "For standing beside me when you had every right to run in the other direction.  For giving me the two beautiful daughters that will keep my family alive.  For giving me something to live for besides vengeance and being an extraordinary wife and mother even though that's never what you wanted."

            She swallowed hard and gave a nervous laugh.  "Stop, you're making me blush."

            "I love you Mardi," he continued firmly, "and I'm sorry if I have ever given you any reason to doubt that."

            Reaching up she caressed his cheek fondly.  "Never.  And I've never for a moment stopped loving you in return.  Either of you," she sighed.  They kissed and danced slowly and held each other tight.  
_  
And I don't want the world to see me  
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am  
_  
            Finally the time had come to go home.  Halfway to the door Grace threw her hands up in exaggerated frustration.  "I forgot my handbag."

            "Well go get it sweetheart," Mardi said.  "We'll be out waiting in the car."

            She rushed back to the table and picked up the small tote, surreptitiously looking around for the cute waiter she'd noticed all night.  He was across the room taking an order, but he looked back at her and winked.  Blushing wildly, and smiling so hard her face hurt, she turned back and headed to the exit, walking at a sedate, unhurried pace.  The doorman nodded while he held the door, and she stepped outside just as the quiet Gotham night turned into a raging hell.

            The blast threw her backwards ten feet.  When she was able to look up she saw the gaped-tooth hole in the restaurant front, debris everywhere, smoke, and chaos.  The screams and confused questions of the patrons were jumbled together in a mind-numbing cacophony.  Grace was so shaken up that for a moment she couldn't remember where she was or why.  When her head finally cleared she jumped up and dashed for the door.  A man – possibly the cute waiter – grabbed her by the waist and held her back.  "Let me go!" she screamed, kicking and thrashing wildly, her fear a living creature that demanded release.  "My family is out there!  LET ME GO!"  Then she recalled all that her dad had taught her.  The waiter whimpered in agony as he cradled his broken fingers and bloody nose.

            Outside a smoking black crater took up half the block, bodies of the injured or dead strewn around like rag dolls.  She looked up and down street desperate to see some sign, some hope.  Maybe the car hadn't been pulled up yet, but if so where were they?  Sirens announced that help were coming, even if it was woefully too late.  People rushed past her speaking words she couldn't even comprehend.  She tried yelling for her parents but couldn't produce more than a ragged whisper.  This couldn't be happening, it had to be a mistake, or a nightmare.  "And it's all my fault," Grace muttered to herself, turning in an unconscious circle.  "My fault."  Over and over again as first the restaurant, then the blackened street came alternately into view.  "All my fault."

            The world spun away as she fainted.


	11. Chapter 10 What You Least Expect

Present

            Ben was stunned.  She couldn't possibly be taking the guilt all on herself.  "Grace it wasn't your fault."  She refused to look at him.  He cupped her cheek with his palm and turned her face towards him.  "It wasn't your fault," he repeated forcefully.

            "I should have said something.  If I had warned them…"

            "What?  Maybe the attack would have come here instead and then you would all be dead, including your nephew?"  She looked away with a pained expression, but he pulled her back again.  "Or, maybe they were right all along," said softly.

            "What are you talking about?"

            He looked around.  "They couldn't get a very strong signal from in here and from the way you described it I don't think they'd have enough time to track down whatever information they did receive."

            "Ben," she pleaded softly.  "If the Kobras didn't do it, then who did?"

            "That's what I'm going to find out.  With your help.  Are you up to it?"

            Grace bit her lower lip and peered thoughtfully around the cave – her second home for so many years.  Then she looked back at him with those blue eyes, and Ben knew that he'd do anything for her, absolutely anything.  "Okay.  So where do we start?"

            He glanced back to the massive computer bank.  "Think you can get that thing to work?"

            She raised an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile breaking through the gloom on her face, and she said, "There's two things I can't do.  That's not one of them."

            Ben followed her over to the console, watching as she powered up the big machine.  "So what are they?"

            Without looking back at him, she replied, "Calculus and Trigonometry."

            Two hours later they were seated side-by-side watching video footage caught by a neighboring building's surveillance camera.  "I can't believe you hacked into the First National Bank of Gotham's security system," he murmured in awe as she advanced the footage.

            "I could watch closed Senate hearings if I wanted to.  Here we go," she said with pride.  The film slowed down to normal speed as her father's car could be seen driving up to the restaurant in the bottom left corner.  Her fingers sped along the keyboard as she shifted the image more towards the center.  She could see her parents and Isabella and Terry standing on the curb waiting and she gave a muffled groan of pain.  Wishing to comfort her, Ben placed his hand on her back.  On the video, the four of them got into the car and waited.  For her.  Not long after, it exploded.  They both had to shield their eyes from the blinding light.

            Gently he squeezed her shoulder.  "How're you doing?"

            "Fine," she replied in a strangled voice.  "But that didn't tell us much."

            "Well we probably need to look further back.  Can you get footage from the storage lot?"

            "I think so," she sighed, and then commanded the computer to cycle through various cameras in and around the area of the restaurant.  "Stop!" she commanded as she spotted the area where valets parked the cars.  She reversed the film until she saw the car pulling in.  "At least we know that they couldn't have done anything before this, since it was locked in our garage."  The black and white video showed very little detail but someone walking up to the car would be easily spotted in the three and a half hours it sat there.  No one did.  By the time the valet returned for it, Grace slammed her palm down on the console and swore out loud.

            "Hey, hey," Ben soothed.  "We just need to look more carefully."

            She glared at him and then spun the scene backwards again.  They were both tired with eyes dry and strained, but neither wanted to so much as blink.  Then as they were about to give up Ben saw something very, very strange.  "Look at that."  He placed his finger on the screen over the ground just to the left of the driver's side door.  "That shadow, it's moving.  _Underneath the car._"

            Grace leaned forward and saw exactly what he meant.  "Well I'll be damned," she breathed.  "It can't be."

            "What?"

            Ignoring him she turned off the video feed and turned on the telecommunications line.  "Computer, dial out.  McKenzie Sumner, Wayne Enterprises."

            "Dialing," the computer chirped in response.

            He tried to ask her again, but she shook her head sharply.  A female voice answered on the second ring.  "Mr. Sumner's office."

            "Hi, this is Grace Wayne.  May I speak with him please?"

            "Certainly.  Hold one moment."

            Almost immediately the line was picked up again.  "Grace honey, is that you?"

            "Yes Uncle Mac."

            "How are you doing?" he asked kindly.  As the senior VP he was now temporarily in control of the entire operation, and had personally taken Isabella under his wing until she was capable of taking charge.  He had taken many meals at the Wayne house, and Grace knew her father respected him highly.

            "I'm okay, I suppose.  The reason I called is, that, well, I had a question to ask."

            "Go ahead honey.  You can ask me anything."

            "Before she…um, my sister was working on a big merger thing, wasn't she?"

            "Ah, yes, yes she was.  A small factory in the Midwest was being liquidated.  By itself it was virtually worthless, but it holds the patent on a revolutionary polymer, one that may get colonies built in space in the next decade.  We were the high bidder on it."

            "And what happens now?"

            He sighed into the phone.  "Unfortunately as invariably happens in these sort of situations, the Wayne stock fell.  Don't worry.  We'll fair just fine, but it takes a bit for the market to stabilize.  However in the meantime, we just don't have the venture capital to pour into anything this major.  If it could wait a few weeks we'd be fine, but it couldn't and we just had to pull out of the bidding."

            Grace closed her eyes.  Fat tears slipped beneath the lids, but her voice maintained a smooth, calm quality.  "Do you know who won the bidding then?"

            "As a matter of fact I do.  Maddox Textiles slipped right in a gobbled it up.  From what I hear it was a godsend for them.  Their productivity has fallen drastically in the last few years and rumor has it that the owner, Jackson Maddox, was going to have to file for Chapter 11 by the end of the year.  I'd say they're golden now."

            "Oh," she replied weakly.

            "You know Grace, we're holding out hope that you'll decide to take the reins.  This place needs a Wayne at its helm."

            "I'll think about it."

            "You do that.  And let me know if I can do anything for you."

            "I will Uncle Mac.  Bye."

            The line was disconnected and she stood still for a moment, and then collapsed.  Ben reached out and grabbed her, pulling her to his chest as she sobbed violently.  "Money!" she screamed, pounding ineffectively against him.  "It was all about money!  My family is dead because of a stupid business deal!  Oh god, oh god, oh god, it was just about money," she moaned.

            "It's all right," he cooed and smoothed her hair tenderly.  "I'm here."  Eventually the cries sputtered out and she just leaned against him, shaking.  "Think you can tell me what's going on now?"

            She stood back and wiped the back of her hand across her nose.  "That was no shadow.  That was Inque."

            "An ink what?"

            "Not a what, a who.  Inque is a professional industrial saboteur, a gun for hire.  Genetically altered so that she can shape shift, she is incredibly cunning and even more dangerous."  Ben nodded, remembering learning about her in the police academy.  "Terry's had a couple of run-ins with her, none of them ended well, but she hasn't been active for a while now and they'd hoped she had retired.  Maddox must have found her.  I just don't know how we can prove it."

            "There is one way."  He took her hand and walked over to the costume case.  "Show me how to work this thing."

            "Huh?  You want to wear it?"

            "Why not?"

            "Ben, not just anybody can walk in and put that suit on and be Batman.  It requires years of training."

            Reaching up, he pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I joined the Marines Corp when I was eighteen and did a four-year stint before becoming a cop."

            "You did?"

            "Yep.  And I was Golden Gloves champ of the base for three of those years.  I can take care of myself.  So how about you show me how to use this thing so we can get down to business?"

            He could see her warring with herself for a few moments, and then she finally gave in.  "Oh all right, just for this one time, I guess."  She pulled the suit out and started pointing.  "It has synaptic controls…"


	12. Chapter 11 The End of the Beginning

January 1, 2059

            _"Good morning Gotham, and Happy New Year!  This is Bianca Michealides with KGTM news._

_            "The top story today is the near-tragedy averted at last night's Annual New Year's Eve Charity Ball for the Homeless, where the newly regrouped Royal Flush Gang attempted to steal a diamond worth over 300,000 credits that was donated to be used towards building shelters.  Gotham's resident mask vigilante, the Batman, interrupted the heist, leaving all but one member of the gang bound and ready as a belated Christmas present for the police._

_            "In society news, a spokesperson for Wayne Enterprises heiress, Grace Wayne, who just celebrated her 18th birthday on Christmas, announced her engagement to her bodyguard, former GPD detective Benjamin Hudson.  The couple met this summer when Hudson was assigned to investigate the tragic explosion that claimed the life of Grace's father, Gotham icon Bruce Wayne as well as his wife of thirty years, Mardi, their elder daughter Isabella and her husband Terrence McGinnis._

_            "It was just a month ago that Maddox Textiles' CEO, Jackson Maddox, was convicted on all counts of conspiracy to commit murder, a move that was designed to cripple the Wayne Enterprises conglomerate and assure Maddox the purchase of what NASA calls 'the key to permanent space habitation'. The actual assassin, believed to be the deadly and mysterious figure known only as 'Inque', is still at large._

_            "On a happier note, it is reported that Wayne and Hudson will petition the court to formally adopt her two-year-old nephew Bruce Warren McGinnis, also orphaned in the explosion.  All of us here at KGTM wish the new family the best of luck._

_            "Now we'll go to Herb for sports…" _

            Ben was tired when he entered the cave, but his spirit was struck a blow when he discovered it empty.  He changed clothes, taking an extra moment in the hot shower to ease his battered body.  He supposed he'd eventually get used to the physical damage dished out on an almost daily basis, but for right now he felt like a giant, walking bruise.

            Upstairs he found her sitting in the window seat of the large front parlor, baby Bruce curled up asleep in her lap.  The morning sun was brilliant in the large room, and glittered off the tears streaming down her cheeks.  She stared forlornly out the glass and he stood in the doorway, simply watching her.  It didn't matter how confident she appeared to be to the rest of the world, he would always see her as the fragile china doll he'd first met in his office, and no matter how many times she threw him to the mat during practice, it didn't quell the urge to wrap his arms around her to protect her from harm, yet whenever he witnessed her in the midst of her darkest pain he was keenly aware that while he would be overjoyed to spend the rest of his life with her, he remained a poor substitute to those she had lost.

            "I suppose offering a penny for your thoughts would be an insult to Gotham's richest woman," he said quietly as he walked up to her.

            She glanced up at him with despair written so obviously on her face it physically hurt him to look at it.  "I'm sure they're not even worth that much."

            "Why don't you talk about it, it'll help you feel better," he urged.

            Her hand absently stroked the small boy's head and she took one deep, shuddering breath.  "This is the first day of a brand new year.  A whole year ahead without them. Before it was just days or months, but now it's years stacked upon years that I'll have to be alone."  She bit her lip, though she may not have even been aware of what she had insinuated.

            "It will get better – easier – over time.  You have to believe that."

            "But I don't want it to get easier!" she hissed and a new batch of tears overflowed onto her cheeks.  "I don't want to wake up one day and say, 'Oh they're dead, that's okay'!"

            "But that's the way grief works, baby.  What about him?" he asked indicating the child.  "Should he be forever torn up inside, or subjected to your misery?  Life goes on."  She sighed but didn't answer.  "You need to get out more.  When was the last time you even left the manor?  The entire holiday season has gone by without you even making one public appearance."

            "What do you know about social etiquette?" she said sharply.  "I'm still in mourning, it's perfectly acceptable for me to remain in seclusion."

            "Indefinitely?  You have responsibilities now.  Remember the rather large company you own?  Or the charitable foundation your father started in the name of his parents, the one your mother single-handedly ran for almost twenty years, just about wiping out global hunger by setting up the Wayne-Purcell Famine Relief Fund?  These are your legacies, you can't ignore them forever."

            "I don't want legacies, I want my family!" she cried out.  In her lap the child murmured and shifted position, but fell back to sleep.

            Ben knelt down next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.  "God Grace, I would give anything to bring them back for you, even my own life, but I can't.  It hurts to see you like this when I know you're so much stronger."  And she was.  In the months they pursued the case against Maddox, she was fierce and indomitable, but once he had been indicted and it appeared that Inque had quiet literally slipped through the cracks, the despondency had engulfed her.  She didn't even go down to the cave anymore and he was having to make due on his own.   "That robot was tougher than I imagined," he mentioned, trying to draw her away from her morbid thoughts.  "And smarter too."

            "They've probably gotten a hold of some advanced AI," she said in a monotone.  "No doubt it will try to break them out of jail too."

            Ben smiled slightly.  "It would have been a lot easier with you on back-up."

            Seemingly ignoring his comment, she said, "I don't know how my father did it.  His pain was fuel, mine is more like quicksand."

            "Then we'll just have to pull you out."  He nudged her with a grin.  Moving her hair aside, he kissed her neck.  "Happy New Year," he said as he nuzzled it.  She squirmed and tried not to smile.

            "Ben," she pleaded softly, one hand pushing against his shoulder.  "You know we're not married yet."

            "You're driving me crazy, babe," he whispered, one hand sliding up her leg.

            "Don't call me babe," she warned, but he felt her relax as he gently sucked on her earlobe.  "Ben," she sighed, but her fingers had moved up to comb through his hair.

            "What doin'?" a small voice asked.  Ben looked down to see a pair of big blue eyes staring back at him.

            "Trying to seduce your aunt," he said wryly.  "Ow!" he exclaimed after she slapped him on the skull.  The small boy looked at them both in confusion.

            "Don't listen to him.  Ready for breakfast?"  He nodded eagerly.

            "What about me?" Ben asked after her as she carried Bruce out of the room.

            "Try a cold shower," she called back.  Ben groaned and dropped to the floor, staring at the ceiling.

            "What have I gotten myself into?" he queried the empty room.

            Two nights later Ben was out on regular patrol.  Officially being Grace Wayne's personal bodyguard, and more recently her fiancé, he had no need to worry about covering for his whereabouts or being somewhere early in the morning like his predecessor.  Dawn was only a few hours away, and he was about to call it a night when a minor ruckus between rival gangs began heating up to include some major fireworks in the middle of a park.  He dropped down and dispatched the leaders quickly, leaving their soldiers to flee and regroup for a later battle.

            The two generals secured and hung up for the police to handle, he started to walk out of the park in the direction of the 'mobile ready to call it a night.  "Hey!  New guy!" a voice called out from behind.

            Ben was immediately on alert, crouching down and scanning the area.  Nothing appeared to be in the darkness.  "Who are you?  What do you want?" he called out.

            There was a rustle of leaves and then a figure stepped out from behind a bush to his left.  Dressed completely in black, it was easy to see how it stayed hidden so well.  A lethal looking crossbow was slung over its shoulder.  "Looks like you've still got a lot to learn," it said to him.  Ben was certain it was a female voice, though there was no distinct characteristic of the figure's dress or mannerisms to support it.  There was a hint of a smile beneath the full mask.  "I knew she couldn't stay out of it for too long," she said smugly.

            "Who?" Ben asked cautiously.

            "I hear you're looking for Inque," she said instead of answering his question.

            "She's wanted for murder."

            "And I may be able to help you catch her."

            "Why?  Who are you?" he said

            "She'll know.  Tell her to meet me at the same place, at noon today."

            "Who?" he cried out in frustration.

            "My sister."  Then there was a puff of smoke and the figure was gone.  Ben had no idea where she could have disappeared to so fast, and he wasn't entirely certain he would have pursued if he did.  His head already hurt from the brief exchange, added to the exhaustion he was enduring.  He found his ride and returned home to the cave.

            He was sitting at the computer and logging what he had accomplished during the night, when Grace came down, dressed in her nightgown and a loose robe, holding a steaming cup of coffee.  Silently she handed it to him.  He took it and sat back in the large chair, sipping the hot liquid.  "Oddest thing happened this morning," he commented.

            "Oh?" she said.

            "This woman approached me.  Said she could help me find Inque."

            "Who was she?" Grace asked, eyes suddenly wide and focused like he hadn't seen them in a long time.

            "Wouldn't say.  Said she would only talk to her sister, whoever that is.  She was in costume though.  Completely black, with a crossbow.  I didn't even think they made those anymore."

            "They don't," she replied absently.  "It's retrofitted to take energy bolts, but it looks authentic."

            "How would you know?" he asked warily.

            "It's the weapon of choice for an assassin who goes by the name Huntress."

            "And why would this assassin come to me and offer help?" he asked skeptically.

            "She's not offering you help, she's offering it to me," she said quietly, refusing to meet his eyes. 

            "Why?"

            "Because she's my sister."

            The mug fell out of his hand and clattered to the floor, spilling the remaining coffee in a brown puddle.  "Come again?"

            "What else did she say?"

            "Grace…"

            "What else did she say!"

            "She said to meet her at the same place, today at noon.  Why didn't you tell me you had another sister?"

            "It wasn't any of your business," she said coldly and turned, walking away without another word.

            Grace stood before their gravestones, holding four red roses.  It was a cold January day despite the high noon sun, and the newly dawned winter season had already laid down a generous blanket of snow.  She wiped the drifts away from the markers and gently laid the flowers in a row.  "I've missed you guys," she said, still crouching down, plumes of steam escaping her lips with each word.  "Dad, Terry, I hope you don't mind too much that I've let Ben take over.  He's really not bad.  Sometimes I think he's too nice, he actually apologized to a burglar for hitting him too hard the other night, but really he's getting pretty good at it.  Bella, you should see little Bruce.  He's running around and talking up a storm.  And smart!  You'd be so proud.  I show him your picture every day just to remind him who his momma is.  And Mom, I miss talking to you so much.  There're so many questions I keep thinking I'd like to ask you.  And when you're not always on my case, I'm just too much of a slacker."  She sighed and shook her head.  _The tears won't come,_ she told herself.  Not this time.  This time it would be okay.  But it wasn't okay and the tears did come, overflowing first in trickles and then in great gushing waves that at first warmed, then cooled her already frost-nipped cheeks.

            Someone cleared their throat behind her.  Grace jumped up and spun around.  Helena stood, arms crossed, waiting, dressed in a leather biker jacket and sunglasses.  "I see you got my message," she said.

            "Yeah.  What do you want?" Grace responded while trying to wipe the tears away nonchalantly.

            "Same thing you do, to catch Inque."

            "Why?"

            "What does it matter?  Do you want her or not?" Helena asked sternly.  "I can lure her to Gotham, but I'll need your help to catch her.  Are you up to it, or would you prefer moping around?"

            Grace didn't trust herself to speak, only bit her lower lip and nodded, feeling as if she were selling her soul to the devil.

            Helena smiled.  "Good.  Then follow my instructions to the letter and you'll have her."  She spent the next few minutes outlining her plan.  "Do you understand?"

            "Yes."

            "If all goes as planned, you won't have to see me again."

            She started to exit the cemetery when Grace called out bitterly, "What did she do, double-cross you?"

            "I was hired to do a job and she interfered.  Cost me a lot of money," the Huntress replied without turning back. 

            Clenching her eyes closed, Grace said, "So it's only business then?"

            "If I said no, would you believe me?"  Silence was her only answer.  "Exactly.  Remember to tell your boy to follow my instructions no matter what."

            Ben hesitantly stepped into the abandoned warehouse.  "Nothing good ever happens in an abandoned warehouse," he muttered to himself, but he had promised Grace he would follow through on this plan, no matter how harebrained it seemed.

            The darkness seemed to be completely alive around him and he jumped at the smallest creak or groan of the old building.  A mouse scurrying to safety along the wall was almost impaled by a Batarang until he got himself under control.  "I have a bad feeling about this," he said out loud.

            "Don't worry, it won't take long," a smug voice he recognized called to him from above.

            Looking up he saw that dark-clad figure he'd encountered at the park standing on an upper level staring back down at him.  "You have some information for me?" he hollered up to her.

            "Yes.  The information is that your crime fighting days are over.  Get him!" she shouted.

            Suddenly the deepest of the shadows swirled and rose around him.  Dark tentacles formed in the blackness and surrounded him like a net.  Ben didn't have time to react as he was constricted from all sides by the liquid being.  "Argh!" he groaned, the suit's exoskeleton only barely managing to keep his actual skeleton from being crushed to dust.

            "We meet again, Batman," the fluid voice spoke directly into his ear.  "And it will be the last time," she promised him.

            Ben's hand slipped slowly down towards the control belt as Inque continued her slow, lethal embrace.  It seemed to take hours to move it mere inches, but he finally managed to reach the button and pressed it, releasing several thousand volts of electricity.  It would be a one-time only shot, reducing the suit to its barest functions as all the juice it had was fed into his attacker.

            With a scream of agony, she sprung from the source of her pain.  Huntress leapt from her position above, falling two stories with a single somersault and landing with cat-like grace.  As she rose to her feet, the crossbow was unslung from her shoulder. 

            "Don't just stand there!  He's defenseless.  Shoot him!" Inque shouted, still malformed with electricity shooting through her various appendages.  

            Slowly cocking back the bow and inserting a pellet removed from a pouch at her waist, the Huntress said calmly, "You shouldn't have taken the Maddox hit."

            "What are you talking about?" Inque hissed.  "Stick to the plan."  She shifted in and out of human form randomly.

            Ben stepped back as the Huntress moved closer and fired the pellet into Inque's lower torso.  The chemical reaction was immediate and ice crystals started radiating from the point of impact, causing the mutant assassin to scream even louder.  She tried to move away, groaning in pain, but was slowed down considerably as her lower half was solidifying quickly.  Unhurriedly, Huntress prepared another shot.  "You really think I would help the likes of you?  I brought you here for a reason, and it wasn't to take care of the Bat."  She raised the bow.  "You killed my father.  That was a mistake."  Another pellet was shot into what would be Inque's head.  The ice traveled fast, and in a matter of seconds she was completely frozen.

            With the weapon dropped to her side, Huntress turned to face Batman.  "You'd better take care of her, she'll thaw soon enough."

            "So…you're Wayne's daughter?" he asked uncomfortably.

            "Didn't Grace tell you about me?"

            Ben paused for a second, first instinct being to avoid admitting he knew Grace, but that seemed irrelevant by this point.  "She hasn't told me much of anything since you came along," he admitted.

            Reaching up, Huntress removed her mask.  Ben was stunned, thinking he was looking into the face of a ghost.  "Funny, our mothers looked nothing alike, yet they produced almost identical daughters.  I guess that's a testament to the Wayne gene pool."  Quickly she replaced the mask.  "Don't get the wrong idea.  I didn't do this out of a misguided sense of sentimentality.  I've been trying to get rid of her for a long time."

            "Sure.  I guess the deal is that I'm supposed to just let you go," he told her.

            "That's right," she answered knowingly.

            "I can't promise the same thing will happen if we ever meet again."

            "If we meet again it's because someone's put a contract out on your life and you'll be dead soon anyway.  Nothing personal," she added quickly.

            "Right."

            "Don't worry, I won't advertise that I know who you are.  Consider it a wedding gift."

            "Thanks, I guess."

            "And here's a little free advice: you two should go someplace, away from this city, to get her mind off things.  She's really taking brooding to new levels."  There was the puff of smoke and when it cleared he saw he was alone again.

            He sighed.  "Thanks."

            Grace was in the nursery watching baby Bruce sleeping, lost in her thoughts as she leaned against the crib so she didn't even hear him walking up behind her.  Or so he thought.

            He snuck up and quickly grabbed her around the waist, expecting a howl of surprise, but was only met with a bored, "What took you so long?  I heard you come in fifteen minutes ago."

            Hugging her even closer he chuckled and kissed her ear.  "We should get married."

            Turning around in his embrace, she replied,  "You've already proposed, remember?  There were candles and a ring…"  She waved her left hand in front of him, showing off the beautiful pink diamond he'd given her.

            "Yeah, yeah," he said quickly showing he understood her joke, but continued seriously, "I mean we should get married now."

            "These things take a lot of planning, Ben.  Maybe by next summer…"

            She shook his head.  "Didn't you tell me your parents eloped to Metropolis?"

            "Yes," she said warily.

            "Well, I hear it's really beautiful this time of year.  We could drop Bruce off with Mary and be up there by supper."

            She pondered his suggestion for a moment.  "Really?"

            "Really.  Inque's locked up tight.  I think we deserve to put it all behind us.  Just get out of here and have some time to ourselves."  He kissed her deeply.  "It's a new start, babe.  Marry me?"

            With that small smile that always sent shivers down his spine, she replied, "Sounds like fun."

Fin.

_This is not the end.  This is not even the beginning of the end.  It is the end of the beginning._


End file.
